Celebrity Life
by JacAvoy85
Summary: Erik is a high maintenance celebrity who meets Charles, a paparazzi, but Erik doesn't know this of course, and falls in love. Good things happen, bad things happen and everyone gets a happy ending. Cherik. Humor/Crack. OCC.
1. I Died When My Career Did

No one had seen Erik Lehnsherr in months. Five, to be exact. Right after his last movie came out (It was suppose to be the hit of the summer) and _flopped_. Big time. It stank. Was possibly the worst movie of all times; as one source stated. He is being considered for a potential nominee on the 2012 Razzie Award nominating ballot, the category; worst actor, for his performance in _First Class Lover_.

Erik Lehnsherr is an A-list celebrity (if there were a letter before A, he would be on _that_ list; As he tells people) so when his last movie flopped, after much expectations of being so great, Erik Lehnsherr did what he does best when he fails at something; he pouts like a big baby and refuses to be seen, blaming everybody, ranging from the director all the way to the cleanup crew, for the utter failure of the movie.

You see, Erik Lehnsherr _is_ a huge celebrity, with a personality to match. He won Best Actor three years in a row. He never leaves an award show empty handed. He's always nominated for _something_, but when he was considered for a Razzie, he was furious. He may or may not have broken some valuable items in his West Hollywood home, and then demanded they be replaced.

"Will the prestigious Mr. Lehnsherr be going out today, or are we still hiding our face until another actor makes a worse movie than you?"

A lamp is thrown.

Azazel is unfazed however; he's gotten all too use to Erik's bitchiness. "Is that a no then?"

"Fuck off."

Azazel sighs, "You may want to at least step out and show the paparazzi your favorite hand gesture," he suggests as he looks out the window at all the tents that have been outside the gate to Erik's home for the last two months, "Rumors are circulating that you have died."

"Good. Let them think that. I may as well be dead; I _died_ when my career did." Erik huffs.

Azazel looks to him, "You're are so dramatic, your career isn't _dead_." He looks back out the window.

Erik still won't look at him, "How do you know that?"

Azazel looks smug. "I'm still here."

And on cue, Erik is not amused. "I should fire you."

"You'd be lost without me," Azazel waves a dismissive hand.

Erik knows this is true; Azazel is a great agent, and Erik's best and probably (definitely) only friend, he's the only one who's willing to put up with Erik's _I am God attitude_. So what if he has to occasionally put up with a massive bitch fit over whether Erik's water came from a spring off a fucking mountain, or dodge the occasional flying object hurled at his head, he's put up with the man for five years now, and doesn't plan on leaving now, even if his last movie was awful.

Erik stalks over to the window and whips the curtains closed, "Bloody vultures." He mumbles.

Azazel smirks.

"I can't believe they set up tents! Fucking tents! Why can't they just except that I've died, and am not coming out any time soon!" He sits on his couch, "_Mein Gott_, I wish they'd just fuck off already."

"Would your majesty like me to turn the hose on them again?" Azazel looks amused-and slightly hopeful.

Erik ponders the thought, "No, leave them be. I will just continue to be a prisoner in my own home; as I am now a prisoner of the movie industry, casted away from society for one bad doing."

"My _God_," Azazel laughs, "could you be any more fucking dramatic?" He ducks instinctively.

However, nothing is thrown at him this time. Odd.

Sighing, Erik just and leans his head back onto the couch and closes his eyes. "Fine."

Cocking an eyebrow, Azazel looks at him, "Fine?"

Erik's eyes open, "Yes, _fine_. I will _go out_." So God help his agent if something goes wrong.

Azazel almost gasps, almost... he tends not to show much emotion. "My god, I never thought I'd see the day. Shall I call the car?" He's slightly excited. Ass.

Erik gets up, "Not yet, I'll shower first and get changed."

"Finally…" Azazel mumbles, studying his hand. He should really trim his nails.

Erik ignores him. His lamps are thankful.

XXX

Charles Xavier is running down Sunset Boulevard as fast as he can, camera clutched tightly in his hands; he is not going to miss this! His boss might very well kill him.

No, really-kill him dead.

The word is out; Erik Lehnsherr is out in public! Charles got the message on his phone, he hurries to the last known location he was spotted. He knows he needs to get this shot; his career is riding on it; just as his boss is ridding _his_ ass to get something on Lehnsherr, even if it is a copy of his death certificate.

Charles can't help but think; _Why me? Why did I get assigned to Erik fucking Lehnsherr_? The man probably eats nails for breakfast for fucks sake.

Also, Erik Lehnsherr is notorious for breaking paparazzi cameras, and _maybe_ stomping on them after words, just to be sure no film can be recovered, maybe. A bit….Okay, all the time.

Charles hurries around the corner just in time to see Erik stepping out of a coffee shop and…

"Hey!" Charles shouts as he realizes some bloody mother fucker just stole his five hundred dollar camera, just ripped it out of his hands and took off running. "What the fuck!... Am I in New York?"

Before he has time to chase after the thief, and prossibly beat him, someone runs right into him. Literally.

"Fuck!" Erik was desperately trying to get away from the hoard of paparazzi that were stalking him, when he smashed into Charles, who to him, without his huge, obvious: _I'm a paparazzi_ camera, looks just like any other guy on the street. "Out of my way! I'm being chased by a hoard of fucking psychos!" Just another day in the life of Erik Lehnsherr.

Charles can't believe this; he face to face with the man that may or may not end his career if he doesn't get the shot. But he's now currently cameraless. Without thinking, he grabs Erik by the arm (and lives) "Come on, I can get you away from them!"

Erik hesitates for a second, before he realizes this may be his best shot at escape, seeing how Azazel ditched him at the coffee shop for some tits in a short skirt and come-fuck-me boots. Jerk. He'll fire him later.

He lets Charles drag him down an alley, great this is how Erik Lehnsherr is going to die, in a bloody alley by some crazed guy with big beautiful blue eyes. He did _not_ see that coming. Before he knows it though, he's around another corner and the hoard of cameras are gone. Fucking A!

He looks at the brunet stranger, still a bit unsure how all that happened.

Charles looks sheepishly at him; it's so cute it's sickening. Erik made need to strangle someone later.

Oh Azazel...

"Um, thanks." Erik finds himself saying. He's not sure if he's ever said that before; really- he does not thank people- not even during his acceptance speeches at award shows.

_"You all should be thanking me! Without me, the movie industry would be crap-crap I tell you!"_

Yeah, he truly believes he's God. Someone needs to do something about that, Christ.

Blushing a bit, Charles looks down. Why is he blushing? What the fuck? It's just Erik I-like-to-kill-paparazzi's Lehnsherr. "Um, yeah, it's no problem."

Erik really has no idea why the next thing flies out of his mouth, but it does. "I suppose I should thank you somehow."

Hint: It's the blue eyes.

Charles looks taken back, possibly in shock, "Um, o…okay. That would be fine," like someone just _handed_ him Erik Lehnsherr on a platter, which is basically what just happened.

But, Charles soon realizes two things;

A) Erik Lehnsherr must never find out that he is paparazzi. (Charles cherishes his life, he really does.)

B) He needs to get his back-up camera, fast! (Like, yesterday.)

Nodding, Erik says: "Okay then, um can I buy you a drink?" He's really not good at this type of thing; talking to people (the _unwashed public_ as he says sometimes) that is.

Smiling, Charles replies: "I would like that very much, my friend." Oh god, what has he got himself into?

But more importantly...

Oh God, Erik thinks to himself, that smile-that blasted smile.

Erik may or may not be doomed.

TBC


	2. I May Be Naive, But I'm Not Dumb

Charles follows Erik to an upscale bar; they make their way in, not undetected of course. Erik hears gasps and whispers as they make their way through the bar. After all, the man was presumed dead for fucks sake. They sit down and order drinks. Erik can't help but look around nervously. He really is not in the mood to be fucked with. Maybe some other day, thanks.

"So," Charles says after noticing Erik eyeing the entire bar like it might explode at any given moment-Jesus, take it down a notch Lehnsherr. "I don't believe I properly introduced myself, names Xavier, Charles Xavier." He sticks his hand out.

Clearing his throat, Erik takes it. "Erik Lehnsherr."

This makes Charles laugh. "I know who you are." Because who _doesn't _know who Erik fucking Lehnsherr is?

A bit amused at his forwardness, Erik asked: "Really?" And it's a dumb question, it really is.

"Of course- I may be a bit naïve- but I'm not dumb."

Erik huffs, "Sorry, I just don't _assume_ everyone knows me." *coughLaircough* Where's Azazel when you need a good laugh?

Rolling his eyes, Charles replies: "Really? You _really_ think I believe that?" he takes a drink. He may be playing it cool on the outside, but on the inside he's _freaking-the-fuck-out_. "_Everybody_ knows who you are." If they like it or not.

Erik smiles,_ slightly. _"Is that so?" Like the man's ego needs to be any bigger, thanks.

This gets Charles look at him,_ really_ look at him. He says nothing, because really-what the fuck is he supposed to say to that?

"Okay, okay. I'm being presumptuous." Erik takes a drink of his beer.

Charles notices a group of girls gawking at them- well maybe just Erik- and one of them _may_ be giving Charles quite a hateful look. Well that hardly seems necessary...

Following Charles' gaze to the group of girls, Erik starts to hear what they're saying now that he's aware of their presences. Wonderful...

"Oh my God, I can't believe it's him!"

"I thought he was dead."

"Who's that guy he's with?"

"Do you think he's...um?" Okay, now that ones just not fair-just because Erik's with another dude...

"I'd still do him."

"I'd do em' both."

Burying his face, Erik declares: "I hate my life." Which is a fair statement-if you're Erik Lehnsherr.

Patting him on the back, Charles tells him: "Ah, Celebrity life; you never get use to it." Charles would never do it, no fucking thank you.

Erik looks up at him, "It's not easy." He sounds a bit bitter too, Hm, wonder why.

Becuase Charles is in tuned to things like this, he picks up on said bitterness, "Hey, its okay, I wouldn't do it. I give you props; it's not an easy industry to go into." He gives the man warmest smile he can as he puts a hand on Erik's shoulder. Touching-he touching Erik Lehnsherr. Maybe he should remove his hand-he doesn't want to die.

But that's not what Erik's even thinking about-he's thinking: damn stupid smile.

Ah the Charles Xavier smile-get's em' everytime.

Also, Erik can't help but notice how warm Charles' hand feels on his shoulder, and he _also_ has no idea why he says the following:

"You want to go to somewhere else- somewhere quieter- less prying eye?" Damn women. And of cousre, the girls are still gawking at them and giggling. Christ, they have nothing better to do? This is why Erik doesn't go out.

Charles starts picking at the label on his beer bottle nervously, "What did you have in mind?" he _does not_ look at Erik.

Finishing his beer all in one go, He respones: "We could go back to my place," calmly. Did that come out creepy? Because really-he is _not _trying to get Charles back to his place for any impure reasons, he tells himself.

Could this day get any odder? Charles is taken back by his forwardness. "Oh. Um…sure, why not." He really needs to get his back-up camera; he's going to Erik fucking Lehnsherr's home! His boss may very well shit himself if he knew this right now. Charles decides the best option is to get his camera brought to him somehow, he needs to stall. Erik was about to ask for the tab when Charles grabbed his arm-again. How is he still alive?

"Maybe we can have one more drink," he smiles, "I never get out to the bars, and I think one of those girls may be eyeing me." He looks over to the group of cackling hens. He's lying so much it hurts, but he really needs to stall.

Truth be told, even if one of them were _throwing_ themselves at him- he could care less- he doesn't go that way.

He goes Erik's way.

Poor Erik, he forms a look of disappointment over his face as he takes in Charles' words as he looks back at the table of girls. He nods and puts on his best fake smile (which is easy to do-he's an actor for Christ's sake), "Okay then, one more drink." Damn it, why are the cute ones always straight?

"Great." Charles take out his phone and types a quick text to the only person he knows wouldn't ask questions about why he's begging for his back-up camera to be brought to some upscale bar on Hollywood Boulevard.

Erik orders both of them another round, trying not to pry a look over at Charles' phone. He's still unsure about this mystery man who decided to save him earlier. "So Charles," he says as the waitress saunters over with their drink order, "what do you do for a living?"

Uh oh.

Charles looks up from his phone quickly.

Shit.

_Shitshitshitshit._

He should've been more prepared-idiot! He can't tell the man the truth- no- that would be suicide.

Ah, death by Erik Lehnsherr, what a way to go. At least people will remember his name.

"Oh, um, I a photographer, I'm in photography." He says a little too quickly. Great-fucking great.

Although, it's not _exactly_ a lie.

Either way, Erik seems impressed, "Oh, that's neat, and what do you photograph?"

God. Damn. it. Why is this fucking man so nosey all of a sudden?

"Oh, uh, wildlife." He runs a nervous hand through his brown hair. Lies on top of more lies-wonderful. Charles really hates lying.

Trying not to think about how soft his hair looks, Erik smiles, "Wildlife uh? That must be very exciting. You travel a lot?" Oh, only where ever you go...

Charles takes a drink, looking anywhere but Erik, "Yep. _A_ lot." He really hates lying- really- but this a desperate situation damn it.

Thank God Erik drops the topic and moves on to his favorite subject; himself.

Charles smiles politely as Erik goes on and on about how great he is, and how many awards he's won, and movies he's done, completely unaware of what a jack-ass he is being. Erik _really_ truly _does not_ know how to socialize properly. Christ the man needs fucking help.

After what seems like an eternity of Erik talking about himself, Charles' phones receives the message he's been waiting for; Hank is outside with his spare camera. Thank _fucking_ God.

"Oh, um Erik? I'm going to have to stop you for a second, I need make a quick trip to the restroom." And possibly kill myself. Charles says as politely as he can, but not before flashing another one of his brilliant smiles.

And of course Erik notices. "Of course," He says sweetly, "I'll be right here when you get back." Oh God, is he flirting? Does Erik Lehnsherr _know_ how to flirt? Christ, this could be a right fucking train wreck waiting to happen.

'_Of course you are, who else will listen to you going on and on about how great you are?' _Charles thinks, but just nods sweetly at him as he leaves. He makes his way to the back of the bar, slipping out the backdoor by the restrooms. Hank is waiting nervously with the digital camera Charles requested; a professional camera would be so obvious Erik would probably kill Charles with it right then and there in the bar, witnesses be damn.

"Is it really him?" Hank asks as he hands the camera secretly over to Charles.

"Of course it's him; he can't stop talking about himself. The man truly believes he is _God of films_. He wants to go back to his place; I'm just going to get a couple of shots without him knowing, and then get the hell outta there. I truly don't know how much more of him I can take- seriously- the man is a pompous jack-ass."

Hank looks wide eyed at his friend. "Whoa. He wants to go back to_ his_ place?" His voice implies what he won't say out loud.

But Charles knows. He waves his hand dismissively, "No-no, not like that. He's completely paranoid. He doesn't want to been seen in public, again; it's all about him, he doesn't like all the attention." Shocking, huh?

Snorting, Hank replies:, "Shouldn't have become a movie star then…"

Charles clasps him on the shoulder, "Thanks a million man, I owe you. I got to get back before he gets suspicious." And possibly homicidal.

Hank looks at his friend like he wants to say more, but doesn't. And of cousre, Charles picks up on this. "What Hank? You look like you want to say something." He looks softly to Hank, "Look, I promise it'll be okay, I highly doubt Erik would try…"

Shaking his head, Hank says: "No, it's not that. It's just, " he looks awkwardly at his shoes, "I was just thinking, maybe it would be in your benefit to…befriend Erik, instead of just running out on him after getting the shots." He scratches the back of his neck, still not looking Charles in the eye. God, did he really just suggest that? Is Charles going to laugh at him?

Charles laughs. Jerk "Befriend him? The man is a jerk; he thanks _himself_ at the award shows. I hardly think I'll be able to stand the rest of the evening with him, let alone _befriend_ him." Jesus Charles, that's a tad harsh.

Hank pushes his glasses up, "Just thought I'd mention it," he said timidly, "may be a good way to work your way back onto your boss's good list." Because the shit list is no fun.

Damn it, Hank did have a point. Charles isn't exactly photographer of the year in his boss's eyes. He's known for constantly missing the best opportunity to get a great shot of a celeb, or dropping his camera (hey, it happens-give the man a break). Being on the shorter side too doesn't help, especially when there's a crowd of paparazzi around, Charles always finds himself in the back, unable to fight his way to the front. It's a hostile job environment for fucks sake.

"I'll think about it." He says to Hank as he slips the camera into his coat pocket. He's not going to think about it.

Erik's waiting at the bar now, still avoiding the group of girls that are now batting their eyes at him and daring each other to go over to him. Jesus. Erik couldn't be more uninterested. Don't they read the tabloids?

"Sorry about that my friend." Charles slides up next to the taller man. Mmm, his height is kind of sexy.

"It's fine," Erik says as he finishes his second drink, "So, are you going to go for it?"

Huh? Charles' eyes go wide, go for it? Is the man onto him? What did he mean by that? "Pardon?"

Erik gestures to the table of girls, "The girl that was making eyes at you, aren't you going to ask for her number?" Under the table, his other hand is digging into his knee. Why is he so jealous? He hardly knows this guy.

This makes Charles' cheeks flush slightly, (Erik really wished he didn't find that so endearing. God damn it.) "Yes, I suppose I should, shouldn't I?" Craaap-is he really going to do this? Is it too late to...run.

Watching as Charles makes his way over to the giggling girls, Erik can only hope he fails miserably. Maybe he'll use some terrible pick-up line about how groovy their eyes are. That would be a sure fire fucking way to strike out.

Charles smiles as sweetly as he can before saying hi to the girls, six of them he counts. He takes pride in being remarkable good with people (even if they are jack-ass movie stars), he's friendly and not at all on the shy side. "How are we tonight ladies?" He asks politely.

They all giggle and blush, taking turns telling him how cute he is, and what an adorable accent he has. In the distance, Erik may be sick. He orders a shot of whisky and suppresses the urge to kill anyone. Where is Azazel when he needs someone to throw something at?

Returning with five out of the six girl's numbers (one was only interested if Erik would join in, Charles said he didn't think Erik was into that) Charles smiles proudly at the movie star. Now who's being pompous? He shows the napkin full of numbers to Erik with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Erik tries _really_ hard to smile, he bites the inside of his cheek to stay focused, "Look at you, big daddy pimp, got five numbers at once." He forces a way-to-go look. Why? Why is he so upset about this?

Waving his hand dismissively, the brunet just says: "Eh- it was nothing- they only gave me their numbers because I'm with you." Partly true.

"They think we're together?" Erik says a little too quickly. Goddamn his big mouth. Insert foot now, thanks.

"What?" Charles furrows his brows, "Not like that, I mean...I think they think we're friends or something, only one was interested it _that_, and I didn't get her number." Pity.

Erik can't help but feel sad about the way Charles had said: 'they _think_ we're friends.' He really has no friends, does he? Is Azazel _really_ his only friend? Good god. And is that only because he's his agent? Erik suddenly feels the need to get very drunk, and possibly go find a bridge.

And on cue, Charles picks up again on the unspoken tension. He thinks back to what he just said.

"_Oh_, I didn't mean it like that Erik; I'm not saying we're not friends- well- I only just met you is all. I believe they think they can get to you from me," he gave the taller man a sheepish look.

Erik huffs and declares: "That would hardly do them any good," before he can think any better of it. God. Damn it.

Interesting. This gets Charles to raise an eyebrow, "Pardon?" Erik sighs. What has his life become?

"I _said_, it would hardly matter; I have _no_ interest in any of them." He really has no idea why he's spilling his guts to this stranger he'd just met; maybe he's finally lost it. Azazel _was_ right, one day he'd just lose it and go crazy. Today is that day it would appear. Splendid.

Charles seems to _finally_ pick-up on what he's implying.

Oh.

_Ohh._

Well then, that's interesting.

XXX

When they arrive at Erik's lavish Hollywood home, Charles can't help but be slightly star-struck. Sure he'd seen his home from the gates, in fact, he may or may not have been forced to set up a small tent outside his home for the last month, but Erik will never know that. But once you get up closer- dear Lord- it's beautiful. Erik's so rich he has a hot tub in his pool, which hardly makes sense, but when you have this much money, who cares.

Staring at the mansion as the car drives up closer, Charles says: "Wow Erik, I have no idea how you survive in such hardship," semi-dryly- referring to Erik's earlier comment about how celebrity life is hard.

Erik smiles wide. "Shut up."

Is he...is he flirting? Oh god-help them both. Seriously, where's Azazel? He's really missing out.

Once inside Erik offers him a drink and a tour.

"Yes to the drink, as far as the tour, I don't believe I have a year of my life to spare for that." Charles says with a smirk as he looks around. Good god-how big is this place?

Erik laughs as he makes his way to the living room bar, yes there's a living room bar, as well as a downstairs bar, and outside bar. The man likes to drink-leave him alone. "What can I make you?"

'_Oh, you're going to make it yourself, not order someone to make it for you?' _Charles can't help but think. "Glass of scotch would be nice." He says sweetly. He should have asked for something more difficult-possibly even one of those drinks that come with the stupid little umbrella and fruit-_that _would have been funny to watch him make.

"Of course." Erik sets out two glasses.

Charles walks around some more, looking at everything he can in the living room that is most definitely larger than his own apartment for Christ's sake. Rich bastard.

"Have a seat Charles, please." Erik motions to the couch, then takes a seat himself.

The couch that probably cost more than everything in Charles' apartment combined. Ugh.

He really hated celebrities. That's why he became a paparazzi, to expose them.

Too bad he was not really that good at his job. He has still yet to get a shot of Erik, and he was right there in the man's bloody living room! Charles thought about just taking a picture then diving out the window, James Bond style.

Too bad Charles knows he'd never be able to pull that off; he'd probably get stuck in the blinds on his way out and flail around for a bit. He has to be smoother about the whole situation, earn Erik's trust... then squash him!

No, Charles can't do that either, and he knows it. He's not a bad person, he can't be cruel.

But why? Why the sudden change of heart? Erik means nothing to him- hell- as of right now, he's just a paycheck to Charles.

Yet Charles can't help but feel slightly guilty, knowing his only intentions of being with Erik right now is to get a good couple of photos of him. Maybe it's how sad Erik looks- like even though he has all these expensive items and money at his exposal- it still doesn't matter- he's still missing something. Maybe it was the way Erik looked disappointed at the bar when Chares had said they weren't friends, he didn't know for sure, all he knew was he felt _something_ for this man.

Pity perhaps.

Charles is now faced with a difficult decision; expose Erik Lehnsherr for the sad, lonely man his is, or risk his own career and befriend him.

Erik looks up at the brunet from the couch; drink in his hand, stretched out for Charles to take, sad fucking eyes looking at him, wanting Charles to join him, trust him. Become his friend.

Charles really hates making decisions.

TBC


	3. I Have My Ways

"Here." Charles slapped the photos down on this bosses desk, drawing the man's attention away from his computer.

Shaw looked at them, then up to Charles, shocked expression on his face.

"Is _that_...?"

Charles crosses his arms across his chest. "Yeah—Erik fucking Lehnsherr."

Grinning proudly, Shaw says: "My God Charles, these are _great_! How did you get so close?" He looks at the photos, one after another; they seem to have been taken from a window, straight into Erik's home! "How did you get past the gates?"

Charles really did _not_ have an easy time getting the photos. He knew he couldn't take photos from inside Erik's home, he would know it was Charles that took them as soon as they hit magazine stands (Erik seems like the type to buy magazines with himself on the cover.) Charles had climbed out a window, scaled down a trellis, scratched his leg on a rose bush, and tripped over one of those stupid, useless giant garden balls— just to get some shots from the living room window, thanks.

Smiling at his boss, Charles just replied: "I have my ways," mysteriously.

Truth be told, Charles still couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit guilty for using Erik the way he did. After talking to him for a while that night, he began to realize he wasn't _all_ that bad of a person— just misunderstood, sociably awkward at best.

But Charles pushed all that aside at the time, he knew what he needed to do; and that was get the photos. And now, by the look on his bosses face, he did indeed do the right thing.

"This is incredible Charles, great job." Shaw smiled up at him again after glancing through the photos once more.

"I can get more too."

Shaw's eyes almost popped right out of the sockets, "You're going back? You would do that? Aren't you afraid you'll get caught? You _know_ what Erik Lehnsherr does to paparazzi."And their cameras…

But Charles just flashed a cocky smile, "We _may_ be on speaking terms."

It was as if Charles was trying to kill his boss. Shaw thought for a brief second that he may have a heart attack. "You're fucking with me! Are you _trying_ to kill me? Jesus Charles— this is not a funny joke— don't mess with me."

"It's no joke Mr. Shaw; I met him the other day when he smashed into me on the street, trying to escape a group of paparazzi. I saved him, and next thing I knew he was inviting me back to his place."

"Wait," Shaw's face turned very serious, "Does he _not_ know you're paparazzi?" he almost whispered, as if Erik might be in the room with them. Fuck, paranoid much?

Shaking his head fervently, Charles just remarked: "No, no— of course not— I wouldn't still be alive then, now would I?" No, he'd be _quite_ dead.

Shaw could not be any happier at that moment if he tried. "Charles my boy, you just made number one on my list. You keep bringing me _these_," he held up the photos, "and you can expect a _huge_ raise in the future."

Charles liked raises.

"I think I can manage that Sir." He nodded.

XXX

True to his word, Charles was indeed going to go back to see Erik. They had stayed up late drinking and talking that first night; Erik had gotten better with time as the night went on (or perhaps it was the booze) steering the conversation away from him, and more to Charles. But that may just have been because he'd already told all there was to know about himself. Charles wasn't sure, he was just happy that Erik had suddenly become more sociably acceptable in his conversation skills. He had learned things about Erik that he's sure nobody knew; the man's not really a bad person, he just had a hard time growing up, not really sure how to communicate with people properly, for his parents never communicated with him, he was pretty much on his own from age nine.

It was sad, really.

And Charles couldn't help but feel sad _with_ him— not coming from such a loving family himself; he could totally sympathize with Erik there.

But, as bad as Charles had felt for him, it wasn't enough to stop him from doing what he was doing; and now with more money on the table, _nothing_ would stop him.

Would it?

Charles had agreed to meet Erik for lunch a couple of days later (It was NOT a date). He was just walking up to the restaurant when he noticed Erik, hiding behind his big duchebag sunglasses. Yeah those don't scream: _I'm-a-celebrity_. Christ.

Or maybe Charles didn't like the sunglasses because he couldn't see the man's beautiful grey-green eyes.

Charles took _that certain_ thought and put it aside for now—like far, far back in a dark recess of his brain.

"Charles." Erik smiled as he walked up to the other man.

"Good afternoon Erik." Charles smiled right back, every so sweetly, as only one Charles Xavier could. Such a charmer.

"I'm glad you agreed to meet up with me again." He had said a bit softly, almost shyly.

Charles couldn't figure out why that made him blush ever so slightly. "Of course Erik, I had a good time the other night, you're a very interesting man truth be told." And you take very lovely photos.

Photos that make Charles money.

Erik raised his eyebrows with a grin, "I hope that's a good thing," he said almost teasingly. Was…was Erik flirting?

Charles chuckled and looked to his shoes, "Very much so." He was suddenly very aware he was nervous around the other man, when did this happen? Get it together Xavier, Jesus.

This pleased Erik. "Shall we?" He motioned to the café.

"Yes, after you." Charles did _not_ want Erik to see his cheeks turning even redder; he still had no idea why he was blushing like a teenage girl on a first date.(Serious, this was _not_ a date though!)

Was it...?

They had taken a table outside and ordered drinks, beginning their small talk with each other. After some time passed they both became more comfortable; laughing and sharing stories, acting like old friends. Charles was still a bit on edge though, he had convinced Hank to help him with this certain photo opportunity. Charles was the bait and Hank would be getting the shot. It was Charles' idea to sit outside and he was afraid Erik would've fought it— but lucky for him— Erik had agreed with little push from Charles (read: batted his pretty eyes). The man seemed easy enough to persuade— Charles was _not _expecting that at all from someone like Erik Lehnsherr; God of Movies (Hank's words—not his).

Or maybe, it was just Charles (and those seducing eyes).

Hank was set up across the street with Charles' new camera (that he really didn't have the money for but, oh well—Charles is a goddamn paparazzi—he needs a camera. How else is he going to make his living?) It was good for long shots, which was what was needed here. Hank was hiding behind a bush, as nervous as one could be in this certain type of situation. All he could think about was that damned video Charles had shown him on 'YouTube' of Erik wrapping a paparazzi's camera strap around their neck and choking them with it.

Yeah, so, Hank— not so sure about this.

Charles got the text on his phone from Hank, letting him know he was in place: '_I'm going to throw up.'_

Good, everything was going smoothly so far. Charles relaxed and continued normal conversation with Erik, trying to keep his focus anywhere but the shaking bush across the street.

'_Calm down Hank, it looks like an earthquake over there, just get a couple snaps and be on your way. I'll keep him distracted.' _Charles typed the message quickly on his phone, not wanting to be rude in front of Erik, or raise any suspicion.

But Erik did notice Charles messing with his phone. "Everything okay? Important call you need to take?" He asked with a smile, but on the inside he was having feelings of jealousy for some reason. What the hell?

Looking up quickly, Charles just replied: "Hmm? Oh, no— it's fine— nothing important." He needed to throw out a cover-up, just to be sure. "Just one of the girls from the bar the other night," he said causally before looking back down to his phone.

That was not the right thing to say, because Erik's face completely dropped (and so did his heart).

Of course, what was he expecting from Charles anyway? Just because he'd agreed to meet Erik for lunch didn't mean this was a date. What a fool he had been—thinking Charles would ever be interesting in someone like him. He knew Charles was into women from the first night at the bar, he was just hoping that maybe …

Well it didn't matter anymore. Erik _moped_.

When Charles looked up and saw the odd expression on Erik's face, something had hit him, and for some unknown reason he found himself saying: "Not that it matters," with the wave of a hand, "I'm not interested anyway." Oh, did he really just say that? Dear Lord, what has gotten into him?

Erik's eyebrows shot up quickly (maybe a little _too _quickly). "Really? And why's that?" Charles was gorgeous—he could get any girl he wanted.

Or guy.

And poor Charles, he wished he could just shut-up, but his mouth had betrayed him and just kept going, "Just not my type,"  
he said with a face. Oh no, it's too late now.

Now Erik was VERY interested in finding out why that was. _He_ may not be into girls himself, but he could at least pick out a hottie when he saw one, and all the girls from that night were A-pluses in his book. "Not your type? They were all gorgeous Charles, are you blind?" Or perhaps gay? Pretty please be gay.

Charles looked down sheepishly. "Well, um…not my type, in the way that they were um…girls." He brought his eyes back up to meet Erik's.

Oh my, that's a big happy smile. Kind of creepy—but happy.

Erik stopped himself before he got up and did a happy dance on the table (THAT he did not need to end up on 'YouTube') by saying: "Oh. That makes sense then."

After some much needed awkward silence, Erik let out a small laugh.

"What?" Charles looked quizzically at him. The hell's so funny about that? Perhaps Erik's never heard any of the rumors circulating about _him_—then maybe he wouldn't be laughing. Jerk.

Erik waves his hand, "Nothing. I just didn't…uh, peg you as the type."

What the? Charles was a bit insulted here. "What? _Gay_?" Oh god, did he just admit to Erik-fucking-Lehnsherr that he was gay? Who says things like that to random movie stars they just met?

Apparently Charles Xavier does.

"Yes." Erik remarked flippantly."

"So," Charles said with a hint of amusement, "you're saying I look _un_gay?" he smiled at the taller man.

"Quite." Erik said with a smirk. Charles is just too cute!

"And _you're_ the expert?" Charles throws at him, just as a joke. (And possibly a flirt?)

Erik gives him a lustful look from across the table, then puts his hand over Charles', "Maybe I am." He murmurs.

_Oh!_

Charles' stomach does a flop; his heart may have skipped a beat as well.

So, that definitely clarifies Erik's preference in sexuality for Charles. Not that it should matter; Charles is so _not_ interested in Erik-fucking-Lehnsherr.

Is he?

He gulps, hand tingling under Erik's. Oh God.

Yep, he may be boned.

Charles looked Erik in the eyes, "So… you're okay with that then?"

Smiling, the other man just replied: "Of course, I'd be a hypocrite if I weren't."

Jesus, Charles couldn't believe this man was just spilling his guts to him. This is only the second time they've met. Charles could do _anything_ with his information: Erik Lehnsherr; Hollywood actor, celebrity, _gay_. He could see the headlines now, Christ.

Erik must really trust him.(Or must be really smitten by the brunet.)

_Uhggg_. Charles really just wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and die, _thanks_.

But instead, he just gave Erik that brilliant smile he's famous for. "Well, looks like we have something in common than, don't we?" Stop. Flirting. For the love of god!

And Erik, well he just wanted take that smile, put it in a box and keep it forever. Charles really had no idea what he was doing to the German—and it wasn't fair.

XXX

Erik walked Charles back to his apartment (and they say chivalry is dead), Charles had insisted that that wasn't necessary, but Erik was persistent. (And intimidating, keep that in mind too.)

"Your friend will be confused on where to pick you up." Charles had joked as they walked closer to his place, side by side.

Erik shrugged. "Fuck him. He deserves it," he said bitterly.

Azazel was _suppose_ to pick Erik up from the café around two O'clock— so, so what if Erik hadn't told him that plans had changed— he may still be punishing his agent for the other day when he had left Erik to fend for himself against the hoard of blood thirsty paparazzi. Ass.

Then again, if Azazel wouldn't have abandoned him like the jerk of a friend he is, he wouldn't have crashed into Charles. Literally.

Maybe he should give the man a raise instead.

"Whelp, this is me." Charles sounded as awkward as he felt, rocking on his heels, bottom lip being chewed on nervously. Why was he so damn nervous?

Staring at said bottom lip, Erik wondered how it would taste in _his _mouth instead. Yum.

He shook that thought quickly.

Bad Erik

"Well, it was nice to see you again Charles. I really enjoy your company. I can only hope you feel the same way about me, I know I can be a bit of a…um…"

"Pompous jack-ass?" Charles supplied with a wincey face.

But he meant it.

Erik smiled and looked down. "Yeah, I guess you can say that." What? He knows it's true—he reads the paper.

Placing his hand on Erik's shoulder, Charles told him: "It's okay Erik; you're not all that bad now that I've gotten to know you," he gave him a beseeching smile.

This made Erik sigh. "I must look like such an ass in the tabloids." and the papers...and on t.v…and magazines…and that one photo shoot in Fuji…

"Eh, fuck em'—there all just jealous." Charles said sweetly to him. He then made another apologetic face. "But you should probably stop thanking _yourself_ at award shows."

Oh God, he saw that? Erik had the sudden urge to run and hid. "You saw that?" he asked instead with a pained expression. He remembered that certain incident— Azazel booed him from the audience.

Looking sideways at the older man, Charles just arched an eyebrow. "_Everyone_ saw that my friend." Fuck, most magazines had THAT as the cover that month—it was classic Erik Lehnsherr at his best.

Erik shook his head. "I really am a jerk," he declared. Maybe Azazel HAS been right all these years. Damnit.

Being bold (or stupid) Charles tipped Erik's face up by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "I don't think you're a jerk," he told him kindly, "You're just misunderstood is all." His hand lingered on the other man's face.

Perhaps he should move his hand now—before he sends the wrong signal…

Erik looked deeply into those fucking beautiful blue eyes, leaning into Charles' touch. Uh oh.

Too late.

_Abort! Abort!_ Remove your hand now dumbass!

But no, it was too late—Charles suddenly realized a lot of things at once. 1) He may be starting to develop some sort of feeling-like-thingy's for this jack-ass. 2) He has been lying and using this man from day one—that can't end well. 3) This will only end badly (or: see number 2 again) And(most importantly) 4) Erik fucking Lehnsherr is going to kiss him.

_Kiss him!_

Charles needed to do something, fast!

Erik leaned in closer; determined to fill the gap between them— only a couple of inches to go now— he can practically _feel _the warmth from Charles' lips, so close now…

"Erik I'm seeing someone!"

TBC


	4. We Will Make This Work

Erik's heart shattered into a million pieces as he pulled away quickly—as if burned.

"I'm sorry." Charles mumbled as he looked down. He was sorry—sorry for lying.

But he had to.

Shocked, Erik replied: "No…I'm sorry; I shouldn't have…_Ich wusste nicht_. Sorry." He fumbled over his words. He was so confused; Charles had never mentioned he was in a relationship before. Hell, at the bar, with the girls, what was that all about then?

Charles bit his lip, "I…I should've said something I suppose." He really hated lying to Erik, he's already done enough of it, but he can't hurt him like _that._ He won't be responsible for breaking Erik _fucking_ Lehnsherr's heart, even if that means having to make-up a fake boyfriend. It's really all for the best (so he tells himself).

"But, the girls, at the bar?" Erik let his curiosity get the best of him; something was still nagging at him in the back of his mind. This just didn't add up.

Charles smiled. "Ah, that—yes, I must admit— I'm a terrible flirt you see, all sexes included. I wasn't sure where you stood on the whole 'gay' thing, so I just played it on the safe side."

Looking sadly to the brunet, Erik inquired: "So on the phone earlier…" he really hoped it wasn't…

"Yes, my boyfriend," Charles confirmed, "I'm so sorry to have lied to you Erik. I've just had some bad experiences in the past with people not quite so understanding of my sexual preference." That part was_ not_ a lie however.

Erik blinked back what felt like…tears? _What the hell?_ What was going on?

He had to get away from Charles—now. This man was ripping his heart out piece by piece and Erik wasn't even aware he'd had a heart to begin with (Azazel's words—not his). Damnit Charles, what had he done to him? (It's called the 'Charles affect'.)

Turning, Erik refused to let the shorter man see his face, for he did not want to see Charles anymore, it was just too much. He was so close to kissing Charles, and then being cut off so abruptly… it just wasn't fair.

"I…I have to go." Erik muttered quickly, turning away from Charles.

And something in Charles' chest ached. He felt so bad seeing Erik that hurt. He wanted to yell for him to stop, tell him the truth—tell him _everything_—quit his damn, unsatisfying job. He wanted to start all over with Erik, grab the man and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

Instead, he watched Erik walk away, heart breaking.

XXX

By the time Erik had made it back to his house (Azazel be damned— he took a taxi—_a taxi!_ what has his life become?) his sadness had turned into anger and frustration. (Not angry at Charles of course, he could never be mad at sweet, kind Charles. But he _was_ mad at the situation, Charles _boyfriend_, and not to mention the whole damn universe because CLEARLY it hates him! (Jesus Lehnsherr, take it down a notch.)

Erik slammed the door behind him.

Azazel didn't even look up from his laptop, "You weren't at the Café," he said plainly.

Erik stormed past him. "Do yourself a favor Azazel, and disappear."

Doing a two fingered salute, Azazel just replied: "Can do boss."Even he _knows_ when Erik's not in the mood and it's time to piss-off.

Making his way up the stairs to his room, Erik slammed that door as well. All the frustration and anger had built up and Erik did the one thing he knew to relieve himself of the tension; he jerked-it like it was no tomorrow— thinking of Charles the whole time. (Take _that_ Charles' boyfriend! Ha!)

He thought of all the dirty things he would do to Charles, the way Charles' soft lips would feel wrapped around his cock, those baby blue eyes looking up at him hotly. The way Charles' hair would feel in his hand as he gently helped the brunet move his head back and forth, mouth sliding repeatedly over on his long shaft.

Erik moaned Charles' name as he came into his hand—_god he needed that_. But he couldn't help but having feelings of shame and frustration afterwards. God he wanted Charles so bad, and jerking off to him like a horny teenager was not the same. He needed Charles—_the real Charles,_ he just didn't know how get him. He began to wonder if he would even be able to be friends with him now; now that Charles _knew_ how he felt about him. Would it be awkward? Could they still hang out?— _oh Gott—_would Erik eventually have to _meet_ Charles' boyfriend? Whoever the fuck he may be?

Would said boyfriend _know _that Erik had tried to kiss Charles? Could HE even be able to be around Charles now, without feeling pain and frustration, anger and hurt? There were so many questions Erik had swimming around his head, it was all so much to take in at once.

He threw a pillow over his head, trying to block it all out. (Where was his magic-8-ball when he needed to console it damnit?) He needed to be as far away from reality as he could.

The problem was, no matter how far he got—it was still haunting him.

Charles' eyes were still haunting him.

XXX

Erik looked at the clock on his bedside table _angrily _(poor clock, it never did anything to deserve such a murderous look)_. _

Two-fucking-AM—what the HELL!?

The gate buzzer went off again—ringing the intercom by his door. And he already knew who it was— Fucking Azazel— he does this thing where he gets really drunk and bets girl's at bar he's at, that if he rings Erik Lehnsherr's doorbell this late at night and tells him what a washed-up, two bit, pompous jack-ass he is, that they have to go home with him.

It's really quite funny. Works every time too.

Erik blindly stumbled his way to the intercom, smashing his finger to the button, "I swear to _Gott_ Azazel, you really _are_ fired this time you gigantic dildo! Why don't you just stop wasting that poor girl's time and tell her how small your dick really is!"

Silence.

And then: "Um, Erik?"

Oh.

_That,_ is not Azazel…splendid.

Erik's heart froze—there was only one person he knew with that soft, sweet accent.

Erik met Charles outside, watching as the brunet sheepishly made his way to where Erik was standing on his front porch. He couldn't speak—couldn't breathe—he didn't understand why Charles was there, and so damn late at night too.

He held his breath as Charles approached.

Looking nervous at the other man, Charles said: "Erik I…" he bit his lip.

Fuck it.

He pulled Erik into a fierce kiss, hands going around his head and burying themselves in the taller man's hair as their lips meshed together.

Erik pulled Charles closer, lifting him up off the ground slightly and more into the embrace, deepening the kiss as he did so. _Finally!_ It was everything Erik thought it would be—only better.

He must be dreaming.

But no—this was very real!—Charles' lips were real. Charles broke away first, catching his breath as he looked up into Erik's grey-green eyes.

"Charles…what…?" Erik wasn't even sure what he was trying to say here. What DOES one say in a situation like this?

"I want this." Charles said, completely giving in to temptation. Fuck it—he hasn't been happy with someone in years—he deserves this.

No matter how forbidden it is.

A shudder worked its way up Erik's body from Charles' words. "But, your boyfriend?" He had to know.

Shaking his head, Charles replied: "Gone. Was nothing to begin with anyway." That last part was actually true.

And Erik couldn't have been any happy to hear those words.

And then Charles was speaking again. "I don't know _if_ or _how_ this is going to work Erik, but I want to at least give it a try." Charles looked seriously at him, blue eyes a bit clouded though. He still wasn't sure if this was the best idea or not. But he had to go with what he felt in his heart.

And his heart was screaming for Erik.

Erik pulled him closer, "We will _make_ this work Charles," he whispered, "We will make this work…"

They kissed again.

XXX

Charles didn't entirely know WHY he did what he did; he just knew that he wanted too. There was something about Erik that drew him to the other man, like he was magnetic or some shit like that. He knew he'd have to keep lying to Erik though (that was the worst part), but only about his job— he could do that.

Right?

He didn't feel right about it, but he couldn't let Erik know the truth of course. Erik would never speak with him again, and that would just be awful. So Charles had decided to keep his job under wraps, and date Erik in the mean time.

He knew he was taking a huge risk.

Everything was seemingly going good for the most part, Charles occasionally lying about his job, saying he needed to travel to another country for photo shoots, while indeed he was actually stalking Erik for photos, not exotic animals. Other times he'd have Hank gets some shots for him, of the two of them together, so Erik would not be suspicious that every time Charles was out of town, magically more photos of Erik appeared on magazine covers. It took a lot of convincing on Charles' part to get Hank to go along with it.

Hank was still positive his tomb would read: _I took a picture of Erik Lehnsherr and now I'm dead._

Charles had of course offered to pay him nicely for his help, seeing how he was now raking in double the amount he was making before, as Shaw had promised. (Erik Lehnsherr was HOT right now—he was in high demand now that he was no longer presumed dead, thanks.)

And naturally, it only took about bloody two weeks or so for the speculations to start flying about the two of them; if they were dating, if Erik Lehnsherr was gay and— _who was that mystery man Erik was always with?_

Erik didn't care though; all he cared about was that he was with Charles.

Shaw had questioned Charles about his relationship with Erik once TMZ started speculating they were a couple, warning him that being in the press all the time was a very good way to get exposed. All it would take would be one person to pull up information on Charles about who he really was— paparazzi— and boy _that_ would be a story if anyone ever saw one.

Charles took that information in vain. He knew he was running a risk, but he took the chance anyway, assuring Shaw that they were just friends, and he'd be more care full not to be spotted out with Erik in public. However he knew that he _had_ to be, it was the only way for Erik not to get suspicious of Charles. He was in a real predicament he realized.

XXX

Three weeks after they started dating, Charles for the most part, had moved into Erik's home. Everything was moving very quickly in their relationship, except the sex that is.

Charles was so nervous about sleeping with Erik-_fucking-_Lehnsherr, that he kept putting it off, telling him he needed more time.

And Erik, well Erik was understandingly patient— not wanting to rush Charles or anything. (He was however, jerking-off more than when he was a teenager, cursing Charles for being so damn good-looking and flirty, but not letting him touch him the way Erik had wanted to.)

Poor Charles, he had no idea just how _insane_ with sexual frustration he was driving his boyfriend— biting his bottom lip, batting his seductive eyes up at the other man, sitting in Erik's lap innocently, running his hand up Erik's well toned arm— it was almost too much for Erik to handle. He thought about just grabbing Charles, tossing the smaller man over his shoulder (caveman style) and carrying him off to the bedroom, where he would fuck Charles until he was begging Erik for more.

_"More Erik—more!"_

"Baby?"

Erik was snapped out of his fantasy faster than lighting on the only tree in a field— he looked down at Charles— who was leaning against him as they half lay on the couch. "Uh?"

Looking up at his lover, Charles asked: "You okay darling? You've been ever so quiet this evening."

He kissed the top of Charles' head. "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired is all."

More like capital H horny.

"K," Charles said gently as he snuggled up closer to Erik's chest, turning so he could kiss the older man's neck.

_Oh Lord_.

Erik drew in a sharp inhale, closing his eyes at the sensation, and feeling the tingles all over. Charles really had NO fucking idea what he was doing to him.

Or did he…?

And then Charles moved his way up Erik's neck more, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake (Erik had to suppress a low moan—AND the urge to throw Charles down and ravish him right then and there).

Once the younger man reached Erik's ear, he gave the lobe a light suck before whispering in his ear: "I've realized that I haven't been the best of boyfriend lately—I've kind of been holding out on you a bit."

This caused Erik to shudder lightly. He kept his eyes closed, afraid that if he opened them, this would all be a dream.

But then Charles licked his ear once more before moving his lips to Erik's, capturing them softly.

A_nnnd_, Erik was definitely NOT dreaming. Also, he was now painfully hard underneath Charles' wicked body, thanks. Damn his penis— he had already jacked off that morning in the shower after seeing Charles in just a towel; hair all damp and bare chest screaming to be touched, licked perhaps. His cock was out to get him— that much was clear.

Or maybe it was just _Charles_.

Charles; who was currently sucking on his neck.

Oh…_Oh God_.

Erik tilted his head back and let out a soft moan from the back of his throat. "Charles," he said gravely, "You're going to kill me if you keep this up. I might have to do bad things to you if you don't want my dick to pack-up balls and leave." It was going to happen—he could feel it. His cock was going to start protesting.

But then—_fucking then!_—Charles just looked at him with _come-fuck-me-eyes_.

"I think I'm ready Erik." He murmured.

Erik's cock twitched—looks like it wasn't going anywhere after all.

This was it, Charles had finally given him the green light, after _weeks_ of slow torture (three weeks is a long time for Erik Lehnsherr, thanks). He was _finally_ going to get to play out all the dirty little fantasies he had in his head about Charles.

Oh yes, Charles was going to get it.

He grabbed the younger man and pulled him into a sloppy kiss, lips everywhere, moving hotly against one another. He held onto him tightly, not wanting to let go, afraid Charles might change his mind.

Charles pulled away from the kiss, breathing raged, and looked Erik in the eyes. "How do you want me?"

_Dear Lord_. Erik nearly blew his load right then and there, Christ!

"Slowly." He breathed out, clutching Charles' shoulders as they kissed again. He rutted against the smaller man helplessly.

Climbing on top of Erik, Charles rolled his hips into him, showing him he was equally hard. It was all Erik could take; he grabbed the brunet by the hips and held them in place, and then slowly rocked his own up into Charles— who let out a soft moan in return.

"Bloody hell Erik, I just want you inside me… _now_."

_Fuuuuuck._

That's all Erik needed to hear, next thing he knew, he was pushing Charles down onto couch, reaching for his zipper. Be gone you blasted pants!

"Wait," Charles said with a breath, "do you have any…?" he looked up at his boyfriend hopefully.

"Fuck, upstairs." Erik bit out. He then proceeded to pick Charles up (just like in his fantasy) and carry him up stairs, over his shoulder.

Once in their room, Erik threw his British lover down on the bed, and quite unceremoniously at that, thanks.

Fucking caveman.

Charles let out a small chuckle. "Oh my Erik. You _must_ mean business." He watched Erik frantically go into his bathroom, nearly tearing the place apart (Christ!) and returning with a small bottle of lube after some time.

"You," he pointed at Charles, "YOU have been walking around here for the last three fucking weeks— looking like _that—_and teasing me uncontrollably. Making me think bad, _bad_ thoughts about you and what I want to do to you, all while jerking myself off RAW, because I couldn't touch you. And now, now you wonder WHY I look like I mean business." He joined Charles on the bed.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Charles was a bit flustered by Erik confession. "Oh. I, I… didn't know." He was very much blushing a shade of red he'd never been before.

Erik pushed him down onto his back, not wanting to waste anymore time. "Of course you didn't _liebling_," he smiled at the younger man, "but now you're going to make up for it." Erik slid his pants off of him, he would've _ripped_ them off, but he wasn't trying to scare Charles here, Jesus.

And Charles' heart rate was quickly picking up speed as his boxers were the next to go.

"Um, Erik," he said timidly, "It's…it's been awhile." He admitted.

This made Erik grin seductively, "I'll be gentle," he told the other man.

And gentle Erik was, he fucked Charles slowly and tenderly, taking his time to enjoy each thrust, feeling every bit of warmth Charles had to offer. He loved watching Charles underneath him, moaning and panting as he drove his cock deeper and deeper inside him. Charles was so tight and hot, Erik knew he wouldn't last long, even after jerking off that morning; it was not enough to keep him from spilling into Charles quickly.

"Fuck Charles." He groaned out as he came inside of him. Charles' own cock let out bursts of semen from the sight of Erik thrusting into him a last few times as he rolled through his orgasm.

Once finished, Erik collapsed onto him, sweaty and sticky with Charles' seed, but uncaring about any of that at the moment— he just wanted to be closer to Charles— to kiss him over and over again until neither of them could breathe.

"_Mein Gott_ Charles, that was…it was…_wow_." He buried his head into Charles' neck, still breathing hard.

Chuckling, Charles inquired: "Was it worth it? Waiting three weeks?" He's breath equally ragged.

Erik kissed his way up the smaller man's neck. "Yes. But please,_ please_ don't make me wait that long again." He cock wouldn't be able to handle it now—not after knowing just what it had been missing out on all those weeks.

He captured Charles' lips again.

"Hmmm." Charles hummed softly into the kiss. Once they broke away, he looked Erik dead in the eyes.

"I don't think _I_ could wait that long again either."

XXX

Two months into their relationship, and everything seemed almost too perfect. Charles was still able to do his job with Erik being none the wiser. Photos kept showing up on Shaw's desk of one Erik Lehnsherr (acting like a normal guy for once) and Charles and Erik's relationship was getting stronger by the day.

Everything was good.

Except for that one little lie.

Erik had even been offered a role in an upcoming movie.

Hoping to redeem himself, and with encouragement from Charles of course, he had decided to take it. He was hesitant at first because it was another romantic film, which was what he bombed at the last time around.

This time however, when he started filming, everyone including Erik had noticed something was different; something in Erik's acting had changed. During love scenes Erik had more emotion, more passion, he was no longer thinking of himself for motivation (seriously, what an ass he had been before—Christ).

There was REAL chemistry between him and the other actor—it was amazing—Erik Lehnsherr at his finest.

One day in particular, had everyone on set watching intently— there was so much emotion in Erik it was startling.

It was the day that Charles had come by the set to watch him do a scene.

Erik had had the actress he was working with move slightly to the left as he delivered his line, so he could look at Charles.

"My love, you have no idea what you mean to me— I can't even describe the feelings I get when I'm with you— to be without you would be like to be without air; I could not breathe, I could not live," he took in a deep breath. "I love you."

Charles' breath got caught in his throat. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. He'd never seen such raw emotion from Erik before.

He wondered where it all came from.

Charles REALLY had no clue how Erik felt…

After the director yelled 'cut' and told them to take five, Erik had made his way over to Charles.

"My God Erik, that was so beautiful." A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled up at the German.

Erik wiped it away and brought him into a hug, and then pulled away and looked down into Charles' eyes.

"I meant it my _liebling_, all of it."

Charles had a look of confusion on his face as he pulled back to look up at the taller man. "Wha-"

"_You_ Charles," he said, cutting the younger man off, "It was meant for _you._" He said strongly, never breaking eye contact.

Charles bit his bottom lip, eyes filling up with moister again. "Oh Erik," he breathed.

"I love you Charles Xavier— with all my heart."

"Oh _God_." Azazel did a 180 and left, mumbling something about 'Erik' and 'heart'. He still doubted the man had one.

Charles just gave a small chuckle as Erik glared at Azazel's retreating back. He'll show him-

"Look at me Erik." Charles said, snapping the taller man out of his death thoughts. He placed his hand to Erik's cheek, bringing his face back to his.

And Erik had forgotten all about Azazel's snide remark by the time he saw those blue eyes again.

"I love you too Erik Lehnsherr." Charles confused.

Azazel? Who's Azazel?

Erik smiled.

For the first time in his life, Erik believed everything was perfect.

XXX

"What the _fuck_ is this!?" Erik slammed a magazine down in front of Charles.

Until two weeks later.

Charles jumped at Erik's outburst; he'd never seen him THIS mad—or mad at all for that matter. He looked at Erik; fury in his grey-green eyes, and then down to the table.

_Oh shit._

Charles' heart fell into his stomach, he couldn't breathe.

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Erik's anger turned into fear— desperation. "Tell me Charles," he grit out between his teeth, "_please_ tell me this isn't true." He wasn't sure if he was going to scream or cry. (Erik Lehnsherr did not fucking cry, thanks.)

But Charles couldn't speak; he just stared down at the cover of the tabloid magazine;

_'Erik Lehnsherr: Dating Paparazzi!'_

Complete with a picture of Charles and his big _I'm-a-fucking-paparazzi _camera.

Well, no getting out of this one. Unless Charles decided to try and pull the old:_would you believe that I have an identical twin brother?_ approach.

Instead, Charles just shook his head slowly, eyes casting downward. There was no point in lying—not any more—he'd already lied enough.

"I'm so sorry Erik." He whispered. He felt his whole world come crashing down as all the lies unraveled around them.

Erik felt fury rise up within him, he clutched his fists together. No, no—this couldn't be true—it had to be a mistake.

Not his Charles…not his love.

"You…YOU..._you're one of them!?_" he spat out with as much venom in his voice he could.

And it hurt Charles—hurt him bad. Tears fell from him face, right onto the ground, he couldn't look up at Erik, not yet, he didn't want to see the look on the man's face of pure betrayal and disgust; he could already hear it in his voice.

"Why Charles!? Why!?_..._This whole time? _This_ _whole fucking_ time?" He kicked the coffeetable onto its side, everything spilling off it and clattering to the floor.

"_Everything_ was a fucking lie!" he yelled. Charles had just been using him…

"No Erik!" Charles stood quickly, grabbing Erik's arm desperately, "My feelings weren't a lie! I _swear_! I love you!" Tears were still rolling down his cheeks. He was losing him…

Erik shrugged him off violently, pulling his arm away. "I was just a _paycheck_ to you, wasn't I?" he spat at the younger man. How dare he use Erik like this? How dare he make Erik LOVE him!

Tears were streaming down Charles' face now; his whole body began to tremble, "No Erik, I _swear_…it's just…I-I-I, I didn't WANT to lie to you, this all just happened so fast. I didn't mean to fall for you! I just DID! And I'd already lied about my job… I couldn't tell you, I didn't want to hurt you," he sobbed out.

Erik looked away from Charles, still seething with rage. "Hurt _me?" _he sneered_,_ "You didn't want to HURT your job by getting caught! You care _nothing_ of me!" he shouted with more rage than he thought possible.

Azazel walked into the room, curious about all the commotion.

"I'm so sorry Erik," Charles cried into his hands.

And just like that: Poof! Azazel disappeared, almost into thin air one might say.

"You're not sorry, you're just sorry you got caught." Erik's own voice began to tremble, reality setting in that the man he loved was a fraud, a liar… a mistake.

Charles drew in a shaky breath, looking back up at the taller man. "It wasn't supposed to be like this Erik," he whispered.

Swallowing back a sob, Erik asked: "Did you even ever really love me?"

Although, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to know that answer.

Charles nodded his head, eyes to the ground, "Yes," he replied gently.

But Erik didn't believe him—didn't _want_ to believe him. And something in him set off the fury again, his damned emotions were going back and forth; anger, pain, lust, frustration, love, betrayal, hope, more anger, confusion, love… _hate_.

"You're a goddamn liar," he shook his head, "You _never_ loved me, you just used me." Used him to get a paycheck.

Charles looked to Erik, eyes red with tears and sadness. "No Erik. Don't do this. _Please_…don't…" just give him another chance…

He couldn't look at the liar anymore. Erik inhaled a sharp breath, and mustered up all the hatred and poison he could when he spoke to Charles next.

"Get out," he said deathly calm, but still seething with rage.

Charles broke down, "Erik…_please_…" he sobbed. It was suppose to be this way…

"_Raus Hier! Jetzt!" _ he finally snapped, pointing to the door.

And Charles didn't have to know German to know what he had said. His heart broke as he made his way over to the door, not looking back as he left; walking out of Erik's life for good.

Erik watched his door close.

He was _not_ going to cry.

He looked around his living room.

He was _not_ going to cry in his living room.

He went up to his room.

He was _not_ going to cry in his room either.

He went into his bathroom, closed the door and slid down it.

He _was _however,going to cry in his bathroom.

TBC


	5. I'm A Big Fan!

Now, Erik Lehnsherr does not take normal break-ups well. So in _this_ case, he's taking it pretty fucking shittly—yeah, shittly—it's a word in Erik Lehnsherr's vocabulary. At least it is now.

Needless to say, it's affecting every aspect of his life, including his acting.

Okay, _especially_ his acting. And of course, everyone is starting to take notice when Erik's on set. He's gone from hardcore-romantic to seething-with-rage-asshole. One scene in particular had the director almost throwing the script down and walking out…

"You're a lying whore and I never want to see you again!" Erik pushed the actress away from him as if she were tainted.

"Cut!" The director threw his hands up. "What the fuck was that Lehnsherr? What are we, in rewrite now? Christ—that was so bad it gave me cancer!"

Erik simply crossed his arms over his chest. "I work with what my emotions give me."

The director stormed off set, cursing to himself about _bloody actors and there mood swings_, as Azazel made his was to Erik.

"Nice shot man; it will go nicely with the rest of the movie," he said as he handed the German a water bottle, "Now correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that supposed to be your big 'kiss' scene?"

"This movie is _crap_ anyway." And that's crap with a capital C. Erik took the bottle and drank from it, he then made terrible face. "What is this?"

"Vodka." Azazel said causally as he went through his phone. (Erik looked at the bottle and shrugged before taking another drink.) They started walking. "You know," the Russian said without looking up, "Perhaps it is not the movie that is crap, but your attitude towards it."

"What," Erik said as he took another swig, "is that supposed to mean?" He winced again. What was this— 150 proof?— fuck.

They came to a stop outside Erik's onset trailer. "The way I see it is," Azazel clarified with the wave of his hand, "when you were in love—although, I still believe you ARE, in love that is (Erik rolled his eyes)— and all happy, and making me vomit into various trash bins— your scenes were full of passion, and chemistry—they were good, no, better than good—they were great. Now you just seem… bitter."

"My boyfriend turned out to be fucking paparazzi— using me for _moneyshots_, no shit I'm bitter," Erik snapped at him. He didn't like to talk about Charles; it just reminded him that love was fake and stupid— a total waste of time and something that will only end in heartbreak and soul crushing pain.

So much soul crushing pain.

Azazel sighed. "Still, maybe you should…call him." He suggested with a shrug. (And then ducked).

Lucky, nothing came flying at him, but Erik's face did contort into something rather unpleasant looking. "Call him? What on earth would I do _that_ for? He's nothing but a lying lair!"

"Perhaps," Azazel said as he took out a cigarette. "But I also saw you two together; I know love when I see it, and right now the only thing I see from you is angry, bitter acting."

Snatching Azazel's cigarette from his mouth, Erik took a long drag. "He didn't love me," he muttered, looking off in the distance.

"Maybe," Azazel said as he took out another cigarette, "he lied to you _because_ he loved you. Maybe he didn't want to hurt you."

Erik blew out a cloud of smoke. "You really think that's true? You really think he loved me?" he asked with a snort. Although, he secretly hoped Charles DID love him, and that he wasn't just using Erik for a paycheck.

Lighting his new cigarette, Azazel said: "Trust me man, puking in trashcans for the last month," and then blew out his own cloud of smoke.

Erik looked away as he took another drag. He knew is emotions were indeed effecting his acting (he probably should give the poor actress forced to work with him some sort of apology, or have Azazel do it for him, or maybe he could just have Azazel E-mail her an apology—yeah that would work).

Was Azazel right though? Did Charles _really_ love him? He didn't know what to think for now. Losing Charles had been _soul crushing_—he truly did love the cute little British man. And it had been a week and Erik was only feeling worse as the days went on, not better. Part of him wanted to believe what Charles had said, that he didn't mean for everything to happen the way it did— but damn it!— he was fucking paparazzi! Erik _hated_ paparazzi and everything they stood for!

So of course it only made sense that he fell in love with one. Erik cursed the world and everyone in it.

"Just think about it man." Azazel slapped a stack of magazines onto Erik chest before he walked away.

Erik looked down at the magazines; they were all gossip and tabloids, he rolled his eyes, "_Mein Gott_." Only Azazel would think he'd want to read that trash—Erik may be conceded, but he's not THAT bigheaded—Christ.

He walked into his trailer and threw them down on the table as he sat down heavily on his couch. Stupid Azazel. Instead of a Christmas bonus this year, Erik's just going to punch him in the face. Making him think about Charles again (not that he ever stopped) and telling him that the brunet actually _loved_ him. Crap it was—crap.

After a moment though, is when he noticed they all featured him on the cover (big surprise) and he picked one up. He paged through the first one, looking at all of the shots of himself (not bad). Some even had him and Charles together—_that_, he did not need to see (his heart was already broken enough)— he threw it down and grabbed another one, looking at those pictures next.

Nothing out the ordinary, just him and Charles out to lunch, walking down the street, shopping together— the time they were caught kissing on the beach.

Erik couldn't help but smile at that memory, even though his heart was twisting in his chest.

All the magazines were the same— just Erik being Erik— just being a normal guy (for once).

He looked down at the bottom of the photos;

_Photos by Charles Xavier_.

And it finally hit him—like a hand to the face in the dark.

Charles wasn't trying to expose him— no, he was showing what a normal, sweet guy Erik really was— not the Erik Lehnsherr that the media is use to: stuck-up-movie-star. Charles had submitted photos of Erik just out and about, behaving like a normal guy, having a good time.

Good times he used to have…when he was with Charles that is.

Erik clutched the magazine in his hand.

"Damn it Charles. Why didn't you just _tell _me?" He muttered to himself as his eyes closed.

XXX

Erik stalked around the set, contemplating what to do with information he found out only an hour ago. _Should_ he call Charles? Give him a chance to explain? What if it was true and Charles was only trying to show what a sweet guy Erik really was, and that he really did love him as well?

The director had called them back to retake the shot-that-went-to-hell, as the he had put it and Erik knew he had to get his shit together. He had to get it right this time, not let his emotions cloud his judgment and ruin yet another take. His director was probably on the verge of murder.

It was about this time that he noticed the actress that he pushed away and called a lying whore during the first take, coming his way. He figured he owed her some sort of explanation on his erratic behavior earlier.

"Emma listen, about earlier-" was as far as he got.

The blonde had cocked her fist back and landed it right on his eye.

"_Jesus Fuck Emma!"_ Erik cried out as his hand flew up to his face. That was sure to leave a bruise, thanks.

Next thing Erik knew, she had yanked him by the shirt and pulled him in close. "You listen to ME Lehnsherr; I will _not_ be made a fool of by YOU. I am _not_ some STUPID actress who will put up with your overgrown temper tantrums. I only _took_ this role to prove that I could work alongside such an arrogant, self-loving, _jerk-off _such as yourself, so you'd better get your shit together if you want to make this movie work!"

Emma shoved him away.

Erik blinked a couple of times as he watched his co-star sashay away as if she DIDN'T just assault him.

What just happened?

"Oh and Lehnsherr," she causally tossed over her shoulder, "you may want to head over to make-up before we film our scene, your eye doesn't look so good sugar."

Erik blinked again.

Emma-fucking-Frost everyone.

XXX

Another two weeks had gone by and Erik couldn't take it anymore. He had to see Charles. He had to see how he was coping— see if he was a miserable as Erik was. It had been three weeks to the day since he told Charles to get out of his life. (He had sent Azazel to give Charles back his things that he'd left at Erik's house. It was not easy for Erik to collect Charles' items though, he'd broken down halfway through and had Azazel do it for him. "_How do I know which things are his?"_ Azazel had asked. "_Anything that smells like tea and is classified under something an old man would wear."_ Erik said broken heartily.)

Erik knew he was being stupid— just showing up at Charles' door like this— but at the same time, this is just how Charles did it to him ( kind of romantic, right?). Only it wasn't 2am in the morning, it was (Erik looked at his watch) 7:30 in the morning.

He'd hoped that was too early for Charles.

Nervously, he rang the doorbell, just hoping Charles would be as happy to see him as he was. He waited for what seemed like two minutes to go by (but it was more like twenty seconds) before he rang the buzzer again.

Erik held his breath. He finally heard movement from inside, and let the breath out.

Well at least he knew he was home, now he was just hoping Charles wouldn't be too upset that Erik showed up, unannounced, at this god-awful hour.

Slowly, the door opened. Charles stuck his head out.

"Erik?" he breathed.

And there he was, looking just as Erik had remember, his sweet ,sweet Charles. _His_ Charles. He had on a crumpled white tee and boxers, his hair was slightly mussed up from sleep, and eyes were still as piercing blue as Erik remembered. He wondered how he'd gotten through the last three weeks without this man in his life. Erik missed waking up next to him, running his hand through his soft wavy hair, kissing him until he woke up, getting a lovely morning blowjob that only Charles could do.

He loved this man.

Erik stepped closer. "Charles, I miss you." And it just flew out of his mouth— to be honest he didn't even have a plan— just, go-get-his-Charles-back was all he'd thought on the drive over. He really had no idea what to say.

Charles drew in his bottom lip. "Oh Erik..."

"Please Charles," he said suddenly, not wanting to hear Charles reject him before he had the chance to pour his heart out, "just hear me out. I've been so miserable without you I can't stand it. I miss you much it hurts—I can't breathe without you Charles."

Shocked, Charles stepped out of his apartment and into the hallway, leaving the door open just a crack. He looked fondly at the sad man before him. "Erik, I did a terrible thing to you. How can you just forgive me?" He wasn't going to lie though—he was happy to see his ex-lover. He just wished he would've called first…

Grabbing the smaller man by the shoulders, Erik brought Charles closer, pressing their foreheads together. "No Charles. I know what you were doing _liebling_. I understand now, you weren't making me out to look like a jerk; you were showing people the good in me, showing what a normal person I am. You could've turned me into a monster, but you didn't." He shook his head, "I'm not going to lie, I _hate_ paparazzi Charles— but you're not one of them— you're too sweet, too caring." Too perfect. He took in a shuddering breath, "I love you Charles."

Tears began to fill up in Charles' eyes. "But Erik— I lied to you—lied about everything." He lowered his gaze. How could Erik just forgive him so easily?

"You said yourself that your feelings weren't a lie, is that still true?" Erik looked desperately at him, hope in his eyes.

Charles swallowed back the lump in his throat and then brought his eyes to meet Erik's. "Of course I loved you Erik; I've never loved anyone as much as I loved you."

It was like sweet music to Erik's ears. He let out a happy sigh. "_Charles_," he said breathlessly as he brought the smaller man into a hug. "I'm never letting you-"

"Charles?" came a voice from within the apartment.

A _man's_ voice.

Erik froze, eyes gone wide.

Who. The Fuck. Was that?

Quickly, Charles pulled away as the door opened to his apartment.

And then it happened; Erik's heart dropped all the way to the first floor when he saw… _some guy _(And of COURSE he was good-looking), equally dressed to Charles, standing in the doorway.

To Charles' apartment.

_His_ Charles' apartment.

Well, he wasn't really _his_ Charles since the break-up, but still...

Erik felt _rage_ and _jealousy _surge through him like never before.

_Never!_

"Oh no way man! You weren't lying Charles— you really do know Erik Lehnsherr!" The man (soon-to-be-dead-man) stepped out, and stood next to Charles.

Next to _his_ Charles. (Again—not really yours anymore Erik.)

Also, who the bloody hell does this guy think he is? He's the guy that's about to get punched in the face, that's who, thank-fuck-you-very-much!

"I'm a big fan!" he idiot went on, oblivious to the _death glare_ that Erik was giving him. "I've seen all of your movies, and I love you at award shows—take the stage, show no mercy— I Love it!" He then, put his arm, around Charles' waist.

Charles'. _Waist_.

Erik now _glared_ at his arm, as if he was willing it to fall off and catch a blaze.

Why...does this man... have his arm... around Charles' _waist_!? Erik was _seething_.

Also, why was this man _touching_ Charles?

But more importantly, why was this man anywhere _near_ Charles?

Erik thought he might kill him right then and there, excuse him for one second while he draws his knife from his ankle holster.

"When Charles had told me he used to know you, I was like— no way! I don't believe it!" The moron continued. "But here you are, Erik fucking Lehnsherr! At _our_ doorstep!"

Our-?

Wait. What?

_Our_ _doorstep_!

Erik shot Charles a look, causing the brunet to look down sheepishly.

Who.

The FUCK.

Is _this_ guy!?

"Oh, I'm sorry man, I'm Steve— Steve Rodgers." He stuck his hand out for Erik to take.

"Charles' boyfriend."

TBC


	6. I Do NOT Have A Crush On Erik

Erik looked at Steve's hand and thought of five ways he could kill him with it right now, instead he took it slowly and shook it.

Three weeks, it had only been three weeks and Charles had moved on. Was Erik that forgetful?

Or…

Was this guy just a rebound? A way to try to _forget_ about Erik, help heal the pain.

"Pleasure." He lied.

Steve kept his arm around Charles, "come in, please." He motioned with his other hand, "we were just getting out of bed for the day," he looked at Charles, "well, not _quite_ getting out of bed- - this one here…" he let it trail off, looking at Charles fondly (Charles blushed, wishing Steve was just _shut up _already). And Erik knew just what he was stabbing at and Erik might very well be stabbing at Steve very soon if he kept talking like _that_. He does NOT want to hear that shit.

Charles blushed even more and turned to the blond, "Steve, please. He does not need to hear such things," he said quietly, and quite embarrassed, hoping Erik didn't hear.

Erik heard. And now he was _absolutely _coming in, even though part of him thought: _Run, run, get away now!_ but the bigger part of him thought:_ No, stay- - get this guy away from Charles- -away from YOUR Charles- - you know you can do it. End them. Reclaim what is yours. _AndCharles looked to Erik nervously, wishing he somehow had the ability to read minds; he really wanted to know what was going through Erik's mind at that very moment. "Erik's probably busy Steve, I hardly think he has time to come-"

"I'd love to." Erik replied matter-factly, and kind of with a quip. Steve didn't seem to notice, or he was just too busy being star-struck to. "Great! I'd love to get to know the Great Erik Lehnsherr better, and not just from what _this guy_ has told me." Steve said as he nodded towards the brunet before they made their way back in, Charles still in arm. (Erik couldn't _help_ but notice that too.)

And, poor Charles, he absolutely knew this was just going to be a disaster. "Charles talks about you ALL the time- - it's crazy. I really didn't believe him at first when he said you two use to be friends, but Christ- - here you are!" He released Charles from under his arm. "He would just go on and on and on about you sometimes." Steve informed an increasingly smugger getting Erik as he made his way to the kitchen, still rambling on. Erik threw an amused look Charles' way as Steve stuck his head in the fridge.

"_All_ the time?" He asked quietly, same smug look on his smug face- -_god Charles hated him when he was smug_.

Looking cross, Charles just huffed out: "Shut up," before turning away from his gleaming ex-lover. _Stupid smug jerked-face-jerk. _No, stupid STEVE- -he needs to stop talking- -like _now._ Stop feeding the beast!

And Erik felt MUCH better- - knowing that Charles still has some sort feelings for him- - even if they were just talking about him (possibly complaining) nonstop. It was still _something_. Steve reemerged from the kitchen, orange juice container in hand. "Really man, I was beginning to wonder if Charles had some sort of celebrity crush on you or something- -he made me watch all your movies- -twice."

Well hot damn! If Erik's smile could _get_ wider! (Charles buried his face in his hands and wished he'd just disappear for fuckssake) And how the Movie Star would just _love_ to tell this moron the truth- - that no, Charles doesn't just have a crush on him- - he bloody _loves_ him. Well, lov_ed_ him, at any rate. (Or does Charles still LOVE him…?)

"Steve please," Charles said in utter mortification, _please Earth- -swallow him now_, "I think that's hardly appropriate to tell him, don't you?" So embarrassed… But Steve shrugged, taking a drink right out of the carton, gross. "Erik doesn't seem to mind (Erik's smiling like a loon), and I think it's just so cute," he pinched Charles' cheek before he walked back into the kitchen, "celebrity crushes are fine in my book," he said as he put the juice down, "as long as you don't act on them." He let out a small laugh and looked right at Erik, "Am I right man?"

Smirking, Erik just knew that Charles hated every second of this- -_his ex is just so CUTE when he's flustered_. "Absolutely," he said to the blond, but raising a playful eyebrow his ex's way. _Unless of course you've ALREADY acted upon it._ He winked at Charles when Steve wasn't looking.

"I do NOT have a crush on Erik," Charles said dryly, shooting the man look. Steve just snorted. Charles cleared his throat and looked away. He already knew the look Erik was giving him. "Coffee anyone? I'm going to make coffee now." So he could escape the awkwardness that was within.

Within the living room.

And as Charles escaped said living room, he walked right past Erik (his first mistake) and the German inhaled deeply as Charles passed him. Shuddering slightly (his second mistake) Charles closed his eyes briefly from the closeness of the other man before he found his way into his kitchen.

Erik smiled in rejoice- -he still had him.

He just needed to get rid of that one problem... the problem that was in Charles' kitchen. Erik hated that problem.

As Charles busied himself making coffee, or acting like it at least- - Erik couldn't tell- - his ex seemed flustered to an extent, Erik smiled as he watched him. Charles first poured the coffee grounds in before he put the filter in. "Oh bloody hell," he mumbled. He then forgot to add the water after he cleaned up the coffee grounds mess and remember the filter.

Yeah, definitely fluster, Erik decided.

Leaning over Charles, Steve said: "Baby, that's _not_ how you make coffee," as he laughed. He then kissed the smaller man on his shoulder. Instantly, Erik's eyes narrowed- - he was starting to feel the rage build again. _He'll kill him- -he'll kill that man if he touches Charles once more._

But luckily (and probably more so for Steve), Charles seemed to shake his boyfriend off a just bit- - just a teeny, tiny bit.

Or perhaps it was just Erik's over active imagination. He went with the former of the two.

"Well _I'm sorry_," Charles snapped defensively at his boyfriend, "but it's early and I'm still not quite awake yet. That and, I wasn't _expecting_ company this morning." More like an intruder, thank-you-very-much. Erik smiled (grouchy Charles is a cute Charles) knowing full well that what he'd meant to say was, he wasn't expecting _Erik_ to come over. (That and, he was also grinning because Charles had snapped at Steve- -ah what a good morning it was indeed.)

Backing away from said grouchy Charles, Steve just gave Erik a silent _he's-a-crab-in-the-morning_ look accompanied with a shrug. And just like _that_- - Erik went back to wanting to punch him again. Not that he ever stopped- -but now he just wanted to more so. NO ONE gives that look behind Charles' back. Erik narrowed his eyes. And AGAIN, Steve missed this. "Please, sit down Erik," he said as he came back into the living room and took a seat on the couch.

The very couch that Erik had Charles moaning on when he bent him over the arm rest and-

"Erik coffee?" Charles cut his thought off quickly- - as if he _knew_...

"Please." Erik replied, looking at Charles fondly (memory still fresh in his mind) and seductive smile on his lips. Charles swallowed nervously, as if he knew what Erik was thinking (oh, he did) and then he turned back to the coffee, "You still like it black with a ridiculous amount of sugar lov-" he cleared his throat, "-_Erik_?" And yes, he blushed about three shades of pink before settling on red at his almost blunder.

This however, started a chain reaction of near blunders because Erik found himself replying: "Yes swee-" before he too cleared his throat to stop spoon full of sugar in Charles' hand dropped to the counter as he eyed his ex widely from behind Steve's back. The look on his face was of one that you might call _Why would you say that in front of my boyfriend you idiot, not that I'm any better dear lord what has my morning become?_

It was, quite a look. And poor Steve, he was still so oblivious to the whole situation going on around him that he didn't even turn back to look at Charles in the kitchen when the spoon clattered loudly to the countertop(NOW who has the celebrity crush?). "So Erik, can you tell me about the film you're working on currently, or is that 'classified'?" He asked with a laugh.

Erik watched as Charles regained his composer in the kitchen (to the best of his ability), and then looked over to Steve. "Oh, um- - it's going okay I suppose." _What the hell was the bloody question again?_ "It should be good, I hope." If he can manage to stop calling his co-star a lying whore.

Charles handed Erik his cup of coffee, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with his clearly-trying-to-ruin-his-life ex-lover, when Erik's hand brushed slightly against Charles' as the mug transferred hands. "Thank you Charles," he said lowly- -with that deep, rich voice that Charles had come to love- -as he looked right at the brunet's face. And Charles of course drew in a small shaky breath before replying: "you're welcome," and then quickly turned away, blush on his cheeks.

Smiling, Erik knew he had him.

Taking his seat next to Steve on the couch, Charles lowered his eyes as Steve threw his arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Again. This caused Charles to bite his bottom lip, knowing that Erik was staring at them. And Erik wasn't sure- - but it seemed like Charles was slightly uncomfortably- - like he didn't WANT Erik to see him like this. Like this was wrong, all wrong. Erik furrowed his brows in concern and gave Charles a soft questioning look. But Charles just looked away quickly when he noticed Erik staring and gave him a small head shake- - like he was trying to tell Erik: _No- -not here- - not now. Please._

And fucking Steve, Jesus Christ, he just couldn't stop fucking gawking at Erik- - the man was probably incapable of it, Jesus. (Seriously, WHO has the celebrity crush now?) "I have to say Erik," he gushed on, "I know your last film wasn't the Box Office smash it was supposed to be, but I didn't think it was_ that _terribly bad." Suck-up. "Not your _best_ work by far- - but hell- - _everyone_ should be allowed to have at least ONE free pass at something bad, am I right?" He tried to joke again.

Oh Lord, Steve really doesn't know when to stop talking. Charles sunk down into the couch as a look of terror flashed over his face. He was almost waiting for Erik to do something crazy at the mere mention of his last disaster of a movie. _Erik Lehnsherr does NOT like to talk about that film._ He's been known to walk off interview sets at just the question of it.

But _thank fuck_, Erik just nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I did use up my free 'Horrible Movie Pass' on that one," he said plainly. Charles let out a breath of relief- -thank goodness- -no bloodshed with come this morning. Unless…

Mother-fucking Steve just pushed right on and- - good for him, really- - he's making it much easier for Erik to hate him. "So, I do have to ask though- - Charles had said you two use to hang out a lot- - were really good friends, very close. So what happened there? What made you two become so distant? Charles wouldn't tell me." He asked as he pulled Charles closer to his body with the arm around the brunet's shoulders.

Staring for a moment at the PDA before him, Erik couldn't help but remember how HE use to be the one doing that to Charles- - pulling him in closer- - keeping a protective arm around him at all times- - claiming the younger man for the whole world to see that he belonged to Erik. It made Erik's heart ache so. _Oh Charles, why did I ever let you go?_ And it wasn't fair really- - watching the man he loved so, being held by someone else- -someone so totally inadequate to him it was laughable. He wanted to scream- - to get up, attack Steve- - grab Charles by the wrists and pull him away. Tell Charles that he belonged to him and no one else.

Erik shook the thought quickly, coming out of his daze as he looked over at Steve, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" _I was fantasying about killing you and commandeering your boyfriend- -MY ex-lover._

"You two," the blond motioned between them, with the hand not around Charles' shoulders, "what happened? Why don't you guys hang out any more?" Well, if he wants the truth…

Charles quickly shot Erik a worried look- - shaking his head fervently (don't worry, Steve is still oblivious as fuck) as if he was trying to say:_ Please don't tell him, don't tell him about the fight. Don't tell him that we use to be lovers._

And- -_Oh!_- - Erik suddenly found all this very interesting. He_ could_- - could tell Steve everything- - tell him they were indeed lovers and not just friends. Tell him just how many times he's fucked Charles on that very couch he was sitting on (GOD that would be satisfying). Tell him about all the inappropriate things he's done to Charles; all the blowjobs in Erik's onset trailer, all the dark corners they've madeout in during breaks between filming scenes, or just plain all the various places they've fucked in Erik's home- - or even that time Erik jerked him off in a closet at that lame Award Show.

Oh Yeah, Erik could make Steve feel real stupid right about now.

Looking at Charles, Erik just sighed. "I guess you could blame it on my job. I'm quite busy now, especially when filming." Erik's such a nice fucking guy. Charles let out a small, relieved sigh. _Thank fuck_.

Oh Erik, he just couldn't do it- - he couldn't do that to the man he loved- -and let's face it- -he DOES still love Charles. It just wasn't his place to rip their relationship apart (Although he REALLY wanted to). In the long run, Erik decided that if Charles wanted him back, he would let _him _make that decision. As much as it sucked having to sit there and see Charles be with someone else.

Also, Erik did have a small hope in him, that Charles wanted him back. (Maybe, just a little?)

Nodding his head slowly, Steve replied: "Makes sense man, jobs can be a bitch. And speaking of- - I need to get ready for mine," he announced before he kissed Charles on the side of the head and then got up. "I'm gonna head to the shower," he told his boyfriend, lowering his voice, "You can join me if you want," he suggested with an arched eyebrow.

_Oh that's it!_ Erik tried his best to ignore _that _little remark and NOT think about his ex-lover in the shower with some duchebag who apparently spends all of his time at the gym and possibly hopped up on steroids.

What? The dude's buff- -almost TOO buff if you ask Erik. He has his suspicions…

Charles turned red (again) and mumbled something about maybe later (which Erik hoped was a lie) so Steve smiled down at the brunet and told him 'Okay' before retreating down the hallway as the two men sat in silence, waiting for the bathroom door to close.

…waiting…

…waiting…

Always waiting…

Closed.

Suddenly, Erik whipped his head over to Charles and pointed a finger. "You talk about me all the time!"

Charles _glared_ at him."You have no right to be here!" he retorted, pointing his own finger.

"I was invited in," the German said, nonplussed.

"You could've said no!"

"No was never an option."

"_Erik!_"

"So _why_ do you talk about me ALL the time Charles?" Erik asked with a big stupid smirk on his big stupid face. Well no, actually his face is still as lovely as ever, but Charles still hated that _smug_ look he wore on it sometimes.

Times like now. Charles just crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. "It's not _all_ the time," he replied and, dear lord- -is Charles Xavier pouting? How absolutely adorable! Erik smiled. "He said ALL the time."

"_He's _stupid." Charles huffed; still looking away (he knew that smile was still on that face!).

Finally, they're agreeing on something. "Clearly," Erik said as his face now turned dry, "but that's not the point," he looked pointedly at his ex. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Pretending to examine his nails, Charles just asked: "Tell him what?" as if he really was totally clueless in the situation. This (as always) got on Erik's nerves. "Don't play coy with me Charles- -you KNOW what."

"Erik why are you here?" Charles asked quickly, dropping his hand and finally turning his eyes back to the other man. And if he was trying to steer the conversation elsewhere- -well, he's not telling.

Frustrated, Erik sat back against the couch with a huff. "Charles, you know why I'm here," he told the brunet as he ran a hand down his face. "But what _I_ want to know is- - why is HE here?" Erik waved his hand towards the hallway, where Steve disappeared not so long ago.

"I beg your pardon?" Charles asked, furrowing his brows. Erik shook his head as his eyes glanced down. He was starting to feel the hurt all over again. "It's only been _three weeks_ Charles- - how can you move on so-" he blinked, looking back up, "-quickly?"

Erik's pained words sinking in; Charles just stared at his ex.

"Am I that forgettable?" Erik continued on when it was apparent that Charles had nothing to say, "Did I mean that _less_ to you?" he asked sadly, eyes going back to the ground. He couldn't even stand to look at his ex right now; he knew it would just crush his soul even more.

"Oh Erik," Charles said as he got up from the couch padded over to the taller man. He squatted down by his chair and looked up at him, but Erik still wouldn't bring his eyes to meet Charles'. "I will _never_ forget you Erik Lehnsherr. Losing you broke me in so many ways; I can't even describe it." He brought his hand to Erik's face- -touching his cheek- - "look at me Erik." The actor rubbed his face into the touch (causing Charles' breath to hitch slightly) and he finally brought his eyes to Charles'. "I will _always_ love you Erik- - but you threw me out of your house, and told me it was over- - now I'm not saying that I didn't deserve it, and I am _truly_ sorry for ever hurting you- - but don't you ever think for one second that I didn't hurt either- - or that you're _forgettable_," he shook his head, "because you're not Erik- -you're _not_." He swallowed thickly.

And Jesus Christ if Erik didn't want to grab Charles right then and there and kiss him senseless- -Steve in the other room be damned! Erik wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe- - tell him he didn't care about anything that had happened in the past- - tell him that all he cared about was right now- - all he cared about was _him_.

Instead, all Erik could find to say was: "Why _him_?" with a sad, small voice that not even he recognized. Charles just shook his head, not really sure what to say. "Because Erik- - because he was there?- - I don't know what you want me to say." His hand slid off Erik's face (Erik instantly missed the contact), "I'm sorry I moved on? Is that what you want to hear?" he swallowed again, looking at his ex-lover's eyes, "Because I'm not. I'm not going to say that Erik- -that wouldn't be fair to Steve." Charles stood up; looking down at the other man now "I'm happy with him-"

"_Are you?_" Erik snapped out and stood up as well. He wasn't going to listen to this bullshit.

Slightly shocked at the outburst, Charles' voice wavered a bit when he told Erik: "Of course I am," as he swallowed back a heavy lump in his throat. _Goddamn emotions_.

"So that's why you _talk _about me all the time then?" Erik asked with annoyance in his tone, "Because you're _clearly_ so happy with him?" Now he was just starting to get angry- - he was not going to sit idly by and watch Charles lie to himself about being happy with someone when he clearly was not. Charles may be able to fool himself, but he can't fool Erik.

Now it was Charles' turn to get defensive. "Don't read too much into what he said," he snapped at his ex, causing the other man to let out a huff and shake his head. "So you're telling me Charles, that you're really happy with this guy? That you really like being with someone like him?"

The brunet shot him an offended look, accompanied with an arched eyebrow. "And WHAT exactly, is wrong with him?" he asked his ex. _How dare he?_

"He's not…I don't know- - he's just not…" Erik made a hand gesture as he searched for the right words to say.

"You?" Charles offered softly, meeting the taller man's eyes.

Erik sighed, defeated, as his shoulders slumped. "I don't know Charles," he breathed, "I don't really know what I'm trying to say," he admitted and then ran his hand through his hair, "I just- - I just hate this right now." He hated not being with Charles. He hated not having Charles by his side anymore.

But more than anything, he hated having to see Charles with someone else.

Sighing himself now, the smaller man just replied: "Well I'm sorry you feel that way Erik, but you can't just come back into my life and expect me to drop everything for you," Charles started to turn away, "we've already ended that chapter in both our lives-"

"Have we?" Erik asked suddenly, darting his hand out and grabbing his ex's shoulder to stop him from turning away. Looking down, Charles just nodded his head slowly. "Yes Erik- - I'm with Steve now- - and I AM happy," he told the other man matter-factly.

But Erik didn't believe him- -he grabbed his other arm and brought Charles closer, "Are you?" He asked deeply before pressing his lips to Charles' quickly, pushing him up against the nearest wall. And Charles tilted his head up and kissed Erik back angrily- - opening his mouth and letting Erik's tongue slip in. The older man kissed him with so much passion it was near shocking- -he was clearly trying to shove his tongue into Charles' mouth further and further, and with as much force as he could- -Jesus Christ.

Charles grabbed Erik's head with both hands, bringing their mouths together more- - and then shoved him away violently. "Fuck Erik!- -_No!_- -You- - you_ can't_ just-_fuck_!" He brought Erik's face back to his and kissed him again, with more force. Erik moaned into the kiss as he pushed Charles back against the wall more- - one hand on Charles' face- - the other on the wall for support- -trapping the smaller man in as he rolled his hips into Charles'- - trying to rut against him the best he could.

And just like before, Charles broke away again. "_No_," he breathed out, looking down, "I _can't_ do this Erik." No matter how bad he wanted to. "It's not right." Erik thumped his forehead against the wall- -_so close_- -as Charles slipped away from his grasp. "I'm so sorry Erik, but I'm with Steve now," he told his ex, pained.

Shaking his head against the wall, Erik closed his eyes and declared: "I hate that guy," dryly. Charles put his hand on Erik's back, "Give him a chance love- - he's not half bad." He then gave his ex a small, pleading smile.

So that's how Charles wants to play? He still wanted Erik in his life, but just as a friend? Erik wasn't sure if he could indeed be around Charles and…_that _guy, without having strong feelings of murder projecting from him. But if that was the only way he'd be able to be with Charles- - he might very well just have to take it. Besides, sticking around might be good for when they break up (and they _will_ break-up, Erik is sure of that.) He could be there to comfort him, and maybe- -_just maybe_- - reclaim what is rightfully his.

Erik opened his eyes and looked to Charles, forehead still pressed against the wall. "What makes you think I won't tell him about our past?" Or what just happened now for that matter. Charles gave him a knowing smile. "I know you- - you won't do that. You're not that type of guy Erik. You wouldn't do that to me."

Damn Charles for being right. Jerk. But that still didn't mean that Erik wasn't going to fuck with him. Smirking, he came away from the wall, and faced Charles. "No, you're right- -but I _should_- -I should tell him of about the times I made you beg me to fuck you, and how loud you scream when I'd plow my cock in you over and over again- -you were always such a screamer Charles," he smiled wickedly, "and I loved every second of it." He traced a finger down the smaller man's face.

Flushed, Charles looked away, "Erik," he breathed.

The older man took that as initiative to continue. He brought Charles' face back with his hand- -forcing his ex to look back at him. "I should tell him about the time that I made you so horny at that restaurant- -rubbing my foot against your cock under the table- - that you couldn't even wait until we got home, so you made me fuck you in the bathroom- -over the counter."

Charles' eyes closed as a breath left his lips. "That was your fault," he whispered, recounting the memory.

"Indeed it was," Erik murmured in agreement, leaning his face down next to Charles'- - cheek near his face (Charles shuddered in lust). "And what about that time," he whispered, right next to the brunet's ear, "That I laid you on my bed- -and licked your entire body up and down- - and then fucked you slowly, until you came all over yourself?"

Charles' breath hitched in his throat. "_Erik_," he choked out, "you're not playing fair." Erik leaned in even closer, his lips past his ear, almost talking against his neck, "And you think it's fair, that I have to watch some jerk-off, put his hands on the man I love?"He murmured.

Pulling back his head, Charles looked up at his ex-lover. "Erik I-"

And this was when the bathroom door chose to open. Erik pulled away slowly, brushing the side of his face against Charles' jaw as he did and muttering: "_Charles_."

"Hey Erik, you're still here, great!" Steve announced as he walked down the hall, towel around his waist. And Jesus- - even Erik had to stare- -that man was fit damnit! "I was hoping to catch you before you left. I was hoping that you'd be willing to come to dinner with Charles and I sometime?" He looked to Charles, who looked like he was going to be sick, "Is that okay with you babe? I figure you'd like to reconnect with your old friend- - it's a shame you two don't hang out anymore." He then looked to Erik.

_Yes, a shame indeed._ Erik just smiled smugly as all living hell. "Yes Charles, I agree, we should _reconnect_." _By the penis._ And of course he said the last word with more than enough sharpness in it for Charles to get what he was implying. Jerk.

"Great then!" Steve said as he rubbed Charles' back. "You can thank me later for helping get you guys back together," and Jesus fuck if Erik wasn't trying his hardest to hide the grin on his face; Charles was not amused, thanks. "What about tonight?" Erik asked, causing Charles' eyes to widen in horror as he shook his head fervently behind Steve's back. Erik chose to ignore this. "I'll make the reservations and then call Charles to tell him when and where." He then looked right at his ex, "Charles, I believe your numbers still the same?"

Charles may have grumbled a yes (and flipped Erik the bird when Steve wasn't looking).

"This is great! I can't wait to tell my friends that I'm going to dinner with Erik Lehnsherr!" Steve said all too happily and- -fuck- -Erik really wished he'd take the puppy dog and rainbow crap down a notch. "With my boyfriend of course," he added as a footnote, turning around to face said boyfriend (damn Charles looked _dry_- -Jesus.) He smiled at the shorter man.

Charles made a face of utter defeat. "Yes, of course."

Oh, this was going to be interesting. (Tragic.)

TBC


	7. We Both Know How This Night Will End

Charles was so busy trying to find the right thing to wear for dinner- - or as he called it: _The Night He Will Soon Regret_- - he didn't even notice Steve come into the room. "You almost ready babe?" He asked as he came up behind Charles and wrapped his arms around his waist. Charles sighed. _Why is there never anything to wear?_ "Almost, I'm not really sure what to wear though," he leaned back into Steve's embrace, "are you sure you want to do this?"

Steve chuckled, "Of course, why wouldn't I want to go to dinner with Erik Lehnsherr? The man's a freaking movie star- - he's awesome!" He let go of Charles and walked towards the closet. Charles looked at himself in the full length mirror- -still hating what he was wearing. "Yeah, he's _awesome_…" he muttered, grabbing another cardigan and throwing it on after removing the near identical one he was just wearing. Christ Charles…

"Oh Lord," came Steve's voice, "are you really wearing that?" he asked as he came out of the walk-in closet, white button-up shirt in one hand and khaki pants slung over his shoulder. Charles looked defensive, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He frowned- -he liked his cardigans- -they were comfy. Steve whipped the pants off his shoulder and stepped into them with a head shake and a chuckle, "Charles, you're adorable and sweet, and I couldn't be more infatuated by you- - but you dress like an old man- - an old _professor_ to be exact."

Charles watched him slip on and button up his shirt, "I like my cardigans, there comfortable."

Shaking his head again with a grin, Steve just told him: "Let me pick out your clothes for the night," and then disappeared back into the closet.

"_Erik_ liked the way I dressed," the brunet mumbled quietly to himself.

XXX

Charles was going to _kill_ Erik- - he decided once they got to the restaurant- -the same restaurant that they fucked in, in the bathroom. Ha, Ha, Erik's _such_ a funny guy.

Speaking of said _funny guy_, Erik stood as Charles and Steve approached the table, looking ever so happy with himself. Charles _glared_ knowingly at him, and Erik must have noticed because it just made him smile even bigger. Jerk.

"Erik, good evening," Steve said as he shook the man's hand before taking a seat, "very nice restaurant- - good choice." Erik seated himself as well- -smug smile still on his face, "Yes, one of my favorites." He then looked over to his ex, "Have you ever been here before, Charles?"

Charles may or may not have flipped him the bird from behind a menu, out of Steve's view. "Nope, and it looks a bit expensive for my taste, and I bet the food is tiny and overpriced." He concluded before busing himself looking at the menu. _Jerk, Erik is a jerk_.

The Jerk just smiled even brighter. "I ordered us a bottle of wine, if that's okay with you two." He knew it was Charles' favorite. Steve nodded, "Wine sounds lovely." He then smiled at Charles, "This one here, he gets 'quite' frisky on the wine," he teased with a laugh and Erik almost slipped up and replied: _I know,_ but quickly covered it up with a small cough and then reached for his water- -taking a sip as he gazed knowingly at his ex-lover.

Charles buried his face deeper in the menu. _Why god why?_

It was about this time that the waiter brought the wine to the table and poured them each a glass- - Charles drank his with more speed than considered necessary for such a nice wine as it was- -Christ. He was on his second glass (Steve and Erik were having a conversation about _something_ Hollywood related, Jesus) when he felt a foot rub against this leg.

What the…

He straightened up quickly in his seat and moved his leg away while giving Erik the death glare of the year. Slowly, Erik slid his foot back over to his side of the table, but not before giving Charles a shit-eating-grin, and a small wink. _That bastard!_

Not too long after _The Foot Incident_, they ordered their food and Steve resumed making small talk with Erik about the celebrity's favorite subject: himself (and if Steve wasn't dating Charles, Erik might very well like him- - the man seemed obsessed with him for Christ's sake.) Charles was taking a drink of wine (3rd glass) when he felt it again- - only this time it was a socked foot and it was much higher up.

It was on his lap.

Charles jumped back with a yelp, spilling his wine on himself.

"Whoa there, you okay babe?" Steve asked, placing his hand on Charles' shoulder. "I'm _fine_." He bit out and then shot Erik a warning look. _He was going to KILL that man_. Erik gave himself a small victory grin. Erik: One- - Steve: Still a douche.

"You got wine on your shirt," _Thank you Captain States The Obvious._ Steve started to dab it out with his napkin, "You may need to go to the bathroom and put some water on that- - you don't want it to stain." More than likely…too late. It was red wine after all. Erik bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too widely as he asked: "Charles, do you want me to show you to the restrooms, since _you've never been here before_?" Ass, Erik was an ass now.

Visions of stabbing Erik with his fork floated merrily though Charles' head as he replied: "No, I think I'll manage just _fine_," coldly as he glared at his ex. "It'll just look for the sign that reads: _Restrooms._ I think I can handle that." He then got up from the table and stalked off.

Steve looked apologetically to Erik, "Sorry he's such a grouch tonight, he's kind of had a rough week."

"Oh yeah?" Erik asked in question as he took a sip of his wine, "What happened?"

"He quit his job." Steve replied with a face.

Erik nearly spit his mouthful of wine all over the place- - which was a shame he didn't because that would have been hilarious- - at this news. His eyebrows shot straight up as he swallowed and set his glass back down. "Really?" He asked, trying very hard not to sound so interested, "any reason in particular?"

Steve sighed, "I don't know, he just said it was very unfulfilling, it caused him nothing but trouble."

Suddenly, Erik felt a warm spot in his heart (Ha! See Azazel- -he _does_ have one). He knew the truth was that Charles did it for him- - that the brunet felt bad over all the events that transpired between them. Erik knew Charles stilled loved him- - he just had to get him to come to his senses and realize that.

Charles returned to the table shortly after, still looking like he'd rather take a flying leap out the nearest window then endure another moment of this night. He sat down and noticed right away that Erik had a very fond look on his face. And it was directed towards him. _Oh no._

Smiling at his boyfriend, Steve asked: "Better?" as Charles sat back down. "Yes." The younger man replied, keeping his eye on Erik-the-foot-molester.

And Erik, god-bless-him, just couldn't help himself- - he just HAD to inquire: "And how were the restrooms Charles- -were they nice?"

Squinting his eye at the German (which probably wasn't good for the eye, seeing how he's been doing it all night) Charles just replied: "Quite," quite dryly, thanks. And he knew what Erik was doing to him- - that smug (good-looking) jerk- - and darn him if it was working. Charles couldn't help but be brought right back into the memory they shared that night: Charles being slammed up against the bathroom door, Erik kissing his neck hungrily, thrusting his hard-on against Charles' hip as he locked the door- -_"Erik! You can't lock the door- -what if someone needs to come in?"_- -_"Would it be better if they came in and saw me fucking you?_"- - Erik bending Charles over the sink, holding him by the back of his shirt tightly as his fucked into him from behind, making Charles watch in the mirror- - _"You like that don't you Charles, you like watching me fuck you?"_

"Charles?"

Blinking, Charles shook his head, breaking his daze. "Huh?" He looked at Steve, who gave him a concerned look. "Erik asked you a question babe."

"Oh, I'm sorry- - I was just thinking about…something," He said absently before looking over to Erik. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Erik just smiled softly at his ex, as if he KNEW what Charles was day-dreaming about, and then repeated his question. "I was asking, why did you quit your job?"

God. Damn. Steve.

_Glaring _(he seems to be doing a lot of that too tonight) at his boyfriend, Charles hissed through his teeth "Why did you tell him that?" as quietly as he could. Steve shrugged, "He's your friend, just thought he'd want to know." Charles groaned as Erik watched the two men bicker lightly at each other- - he smiled, finding it somewhat satisfying and amusing.

Charles sighed and then looked at Erik, "I just didn't like it anymore- - I don't know…it wasn't…," he palmed his eye tiredly, "...I didn't like the stain it put on my life," he finished lamely, bringing his hand back down to rest on the table.

Nodding understandingly, Erik remarked: "So you're saying, it left you with an undesired outcome?" Charles looked right at him, "Yes," he replied slowly, "You can say that." Erik took another drink of his wine, "So you're saying, that if you could do things over again- - do things differently- - you would've made a different choice in your life? Perhaps, chosen a different career path?"

Charles shook his head at this, reaching for his own glass, "No, not necessarily," he told him before he took a sip, "I don't regret my career- - just some of the decisions I made during." He sat his wine glass back down and gave his ex a knowing look. _Oh god- -the wine was starting to effect him- -he was starting to feel all tingly from the way Erik was looking at him. Crap_.

This news made Erik smile softly- - he knew what Charles was trying to say- - that he didn't regret his job because he would've never met Erik, but he'd wished he would've been more truthful from the beginning. Erik accepted his apology warmly, wishing him too, that things would have happened differently. He and Charles shared a soft look between each other. Until...

Steve- - always one to ruin a good moment- - put his arm around Charles' shoulders. "You'll be okay baby; we'll find you a new job." He then kissed the smaller man's temple, and just like that, Erik suddenly remembered why he hated this guy so much. Charles smiled shyly and shrugged Steve off him lightly (Erik's eyebrows rose a bit), "I know," he told the blond, "I'll be fine." He then looked back over to Erik, trying to read his expression.

Erik Lehnsherr was… unreadable. He took pride in this.

Steve took a drink of his wine before stood, looking down at his boyfriend, "If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I need use the restroom myself. I'll be right back." He flashed Charles a smile. Erik watched him leave as Charles picked nervously at his napkin.

"What are you wearing?" Erik asked the second Steve was out of earshot. Charles looked up quickly. "_That's_ the first thing you say to me?" He asked the German dryly.

Erik just replied by making a face. "You look ridiculous," he concluded. Who the hell dressed him? A Vogue magazine? Christ it did not suit Charles at all.

Looking down at his outfit, Charles remarked: "Steve picked it out for me- - what's wrong with it?" Erik snorted. "That explains it," he muttered as he took another drink. "You don't look like yourself," he told the brunet once he set his glass back down.

"I don't look like a stuffy old professor you mean?"

Eyeing his ex, Erik said: "Yes," pointedly. "I happened to like your 'professor' look," he added with a hint of fondness.

Charles pulled at his collar, "I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of the turtleneck." He felt like he was being choked.

"Turtlenecks are ridiculous, no one wears them." Erik said as he looked behind Charles- - watching for Captain-ruins-the-moment to return. He then boldly reached over the table and took Charles' hand in his own. "Don't change yourself for him Charles, you're fine just the way you are."

Looking down at the hand on his - - feeling the warmth- - he found he actually missed the way it felt. But still, he pulled away slowly, "Steve's not asking me to change Erik. He just didn't want me to wear a cardigan to dinner."

"I liked your cardigans." Erik told him matter-factly. Charles raised an eyebrow, "And my sweater vests?"

"_Loved _them." Erik said dramatically with a face, causing Charles to swat at him from across the table. "Stop, you're being silly!" he laughed.

Suddenly, Erik grabbed his hand again and brought it to his lips for a kiss (Charles' breath hitched in his throat), "I miss you Charles." He said, face going serious again.

A sigh left Charles as a pained expression spread over his face, "Erik-"

"Please Charles," he cut him off, kissing his hand again, "I need you…I _love _you," he said soulfully. And the waiter chose_ that _moment to come by and refill their water glasses. The boy shot them a: _Ahh, I see what's going on here _look with a nod and grin. Erik _glared _at the stupid redhead and Charles cleared his throat. He removed his hand from Erik's again and the waiter left. He knew his tip just got deduced.

"Why are you doing this?" Charles asked, looking down.

"Doing what?" Erik replied, "Admitting that I made a mistake?" Charles looked off to the side with a small sigh. "That's not fair- - you threw _me_ out, and now you're tell me that-"

"You were right Erik- - those _are_ nice restrooms- - very classy." Thank you Steve, for being the second moment ruiner of the evening. Steve- -oh yeah- - Erik had almost forgotten about him (which would've been nice). He needed to get Charles away from him if he were to succeed in getting anywhere with this conversation.

But how to get rid of Steve?

And- -as if an Act-of-God happened- - the man's phone went off. (WAS somebody looking out for Erik after all?- -Yeah, the author- - you're welcome.) Steve checked his message. "Son of a bitch, I can't believe it," he looked up at Charles, "Alex never showed up to his shift, they need me at the hospital, like, stat."

Silently, Erik thanked the Lord.

"I'm so sorry guys," Steve said apologetically, "But I have to take off." He stood back up and looked to Erik, "Sorry Erik, we'll have to try this again sometime. Thanks for accepting my invitation anyway." Erik smiled a fake smile (he was doing a happy dance on the inside) "But of course- -it was a pleasure for the time being." Steve nodded, and then turned to his boyfriend next. "I'm so sorry Charles- - you'll be okay if I leave though, won't you?" He looked down at him lovingly.

"I'll be fine." Charles replied. He placed his hand on Steve's arm as he looked up at him fondly, (Erik grimaced. Charles use to give HIM those looks). Looking back to Erik, Steve asked: "Can you give him a ride home? I have to head straight to the hospital, like now."

Oh, Erik would very much like to have Charles _ride_ him all the way home…

He nodded his head, "Of course, it would be my pleasure."

"Great," Steve said with a smile before he leaned down and kissed Charles on the lips. Erik looked away, feeling the rage boiling up within him.

After Steve left, they sat in silence for a couple of moments- -awkward tension rising. (Charles could've swore that their waiter gave them a thumbs up from across the room.) Erik was the first to speak.

"Charles I-"

"Let's just get out of here."

Dumbstruck, Erik blinked. "Wh-_what?"_

Charles just looked at his ex dead on, "Let's go- - let's just get out of here- - go back to my place." Erik blinked again. "I think we both know how this night's going to end."

Wait, what?

TBC


	8. How Do You Properly End A Relationship?

Erik slammed Charles up against his apartment door, kissing him furiously. "Erik, Erik," he tried between kisses, "not out here- - let me open the door at least." His lips met Erik's again, and then he twisted away- - panting- -as the kiss broke sloppily while he searched for his keys.

"Hurry up then," Erik told him as he kissed the back of Charles' neck, who was in the process of unlocking the door. Once inside Charles hardly had the chance to close the door (let alone get his keys out) before Erik attacked him again with hands and lips. Walking Charles to the couch, Erik kissed him deeper- - hands on either side of his face- -holding him tightly. When Charles felt the back of his knees hit the couch, he reached up and grabbed the back of Erik's head with both hands, kissing him with all the passion and fire that he had stored up over the last three weeks they'd been apart.

"Wait, Erik" Charles broke away suddenly, breathing heavy, and looked into Erik's wanting eyes. "We can't do this," he told the taller man, shaking his head as his eyes cast down, "I- -I can't do this to Steve- -it's not right," he brought his eyes back to his ex's. But Erik just kept his hands firm on the sides of Charles' face, "It's not cheating when it's with the person you love," he said before kissing Charles again, trying to get him on the couch. "_Hmmph!_" Charles broke away from the kiss and looked up at the clearly insane man. "Erik, that hardly makes any sense!" He sat down heavily on the couch and looked up at Erik sternly. "I'm _not_ a cheater Erik- - I don't care if I've only been with Steve for two weeks, it's still not right."

Flopping down on to the couch next to his ex with a huff, Erik declared: "Fine then- - call him and end it- - I'll wait." He then reached into his pocket for his phone, "Here, you can use my phone even." This earned him a nasty look from the brunet. "You want me to use _your_ cellphone to call up my boyfriend-"

"_Don't _call him that," Erik cut in, grabbing Charles behind the neck with one hand, "he's not your boyfriend, _I am_," he told Charles possessively before crushing their lips together. And again, Charles broke away (but not RIGHT away). "Okay," he said with a stern look, hand to Erik's chest, "then you want me to call the guy_ whom I am currently dating(_Erik made a face_)_ while he's at work, and tell him it's over- - no explanation- -just, it's over, goodbye." He cocked an eyebrow at the taller man.

"You can tell him the reason- - tell him that you still love me," Erik shrugged, and then placed his hand on Charles' cheek, "tell him that you belonged to me first." Charles cocked his head to the side (into Erik's hand) and looked deeply into his eyes. "Erik," he breathed, "I can't just call him up and end it so we can shag." And Erik really wanted to reply: _Why not? _but didn't.

"Then don't call him- - I don't care- -I just want you," Erik replied, pulling Charles even closer to him, and claiming his lips once more. So much did he miss those lips. And Charles melted into the kiss (it's hard not to when Erik Lehnsherr is the one kissing you), moaning softly before he pulled away. He pressed his forehead to Erik's. "I _can't_ Erik. You know I can't do this- -I'm not that type of guy."

With a groan, Erik leaned back against the couch, frustrated, as he ran his hands down his face. "Why do you have to be so damn nice all the time?" He muttered into his hands. Charles just chuckled, "You _knew_ that getting into this," he told his ex as he pulled the taller man's hands away from his face- -forcing their eyes to meet again, "you've already waited three weeks- - can't you wait a little longer? So I can properly end Steve and I's relationship?"

Deadpan, Erik looked at him. "Properly end your relationship?" He parroted back dryly, "How do you 'properly' end a relationship?" Christ, only Charles…

The brunet sighed. "I don't know- -_nicely?_- - not over the bloody phone while my ex dry humps me in the background." Now Charles was the one being dry.

"Are you giving me permission to dry hump you?" Erik asked with a smirk, sitting up more.

"_No_."

Erik frowned. _Rats._ His lips then quirked back up into a no-good-smirk. "What about a blowjob? Is that cheating?" He asked and then kissed Charles' neck, only to get himself swatted away with a hand. "_Yes a blowjob is cheating!_" Charles told him matter-factly, "What is wrong with you?"

Where does one begin? Erik flopped back on the couch dramatically, arm falling over his face. "Can I at least jerk-off in your bathroom then?" He asked, peeking at Charles from under said arm, smile on his face. Shaking his head, Charles leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. "_Mein Gott _Erik," he mumbled, "I'm going to have to throw you out, aren't I?" At this, Erik sat straight up again and looked at the other man. "Did you- -did you just speak in German?" He searched Charles' face, who of course turned beet red in the cheeks. "Oh… uh, this is embarrassing," he admitted as he looked away, "I kind of picked it up after we broke up- -it may have comforted me- - reminded me of you in a way." He said shyly.

Now, Erik Lehnsherr will never admit this- - but he _may_ have felt something close to 'tears' swell up in his eyes at what Charles had said. He reached over and tipped Charles' chin up to meet eyes, "Oh Charles- -I love you so much, you have no idea." Still blushing, the brunet simply replied: "Erik, you know I still love you too- - I never stopped- - I don't think I knew how."

They kissed softly.

"Alright Charles," the older man whispered against his lips, "I can wait."

XXX

Charles paced his apartment nervously, he knew Steve would there soon, he'd sent Charles a text about thirty minutes ago saying he was on his way. And that's _all _the message had said, which was odd considering Steve normally had more to say, like- -_I missed you babe_, or _can't wait to see you, work was_ hell- - but this one, it was just: _On my way._

He chewed nervously on his thumbnail, wondering what the best approach to breaking up with Steve would be (especially seeing how now it seemed like Steve was in a weird mood). He didn't want to hurt the other man, but he knew his heart belonged to Erik- - it always will. He wondered if he should tell Steve the truth- - tell him everything- - that Erik and he use to be together, and that he still loves Erik and Erik still loves him-

The door opened Steve and came in. _Show time_.

Spotting what was in Steve's hand, Charles thought: _Oh_, _I may not have to tell him about Erik after all. Splendid_…

"Hey." Steve said as he came in, clutching the gossip magazine in his hand. _Yep, definitely don't have to tell him_. Charles worried on his bottom lip, eyes never leaving the magazine. "Hi," he replied meekly.

Cutting right to the chase, Steve held the magazine up. _Damn hospital- -Charles should've known he'd find and old issue laying around in a waiting room somewhere. _ "So, when were you going to tell me that you and Erik use to date?" and he looked so disappointed- - it hurt Charles to see him look like that. He really never meant to hurt the man. "I'm so sorry Steve," he let out on a breath, "I didn't expect him to come back into my life- -when he said it was over- -I really thought he meant it was _over_. He threw me out of his house you know. I- -I just didn't see the need to tell you, and then he just showed up like that, and- - and you wanted to meet him…" Charles trailed off, feeling stupid about the whole thing now. He looked down. "I'm…really sorry Steve, I should've told you."

Steve chuckled, but it was an angry chuckle- -almost eerie sounding, Christ. "So what, this whole time you two were just laughing at me behind my back? Making faces when I wasn't looking? (Charles winced- -yeah, they may have done that once) Oh ha, ha- - poor Steve- - he's so clueless, has no idea we use to fuck." He dropped the magazine on the table (it was the issue of them kissing on the beach- -Charles remembered that day. He tried not to smile at the memory). "What a fool I must have looked like," he mumbled with a head shake, eyes cast downward.

Taking a step forward, Charles replied: "No Steve, please, believe me when I say no one was making fun behind your back." Erik was, a lot. But Steve shook his head again, eyes still on the floor. "I feel so stupid," he grumbled, "Erik must have really been enjoying all of this." That… was true, but Charles didn't feel the need to inform his soon-to-be-ex about it. He put his hand on the side of Steve's shoulder (ooh, still firm- -he's gonna miss those), "No, that's where you're wrong Steve; Erik was _miserable _actually. He couldn't stand seeing me with someone else." The taller man looked up slowly to Charles, "He still loves you?"

Charles nodded his head.

"And you- -you still love him?"

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

Steve chuckled again, but it was softer this time- -less angry sounding. "You know I'm breaking up with you, right?" Charles nodded, "I figured this much," he told the blond, and Steve actually smiled at him.

Well, that went better than Charles had thought.

TBC


	9. Losing Charles Again Was Never An Option

Erik Lehnsherr was absolutely _not_ waiting for his cellphone to ring. No. He would never do that. It was beneath him. He would absolutely _never_ find himself sitting by his phone, waiting for _someone _(Charles) to call and say they broke-up with a certain someone else (Steve).

Never. Because Erik Lehnsherr would just never do that.

He would however, make Azazel do it.

Probably _not_ the best idea he's ever had. (Nor the worst…)

A light knock come on Erik's bedroom door, and Erik _flung his door open with speeds of a hurricane_, almost ripping it off by the hinges on the process. Fuck. "Did he call? Has he called yet? Is he on the phone now?" Erik asked frantically, practically pouncing on his agent and frisking him for his phone- - dear Lord- -Azazel did not sign up for _this_. They may need to renew the term and conditions of his contract. "Jesus Lehnsherr, calm down. He didn't call." Azazel said, taking a few steps back (hands up), and trying to space himself from the crazy man before him.

"Then why are you at my door? What do you want?" Erik huffed- - not pouted- - but huffed. Erik Lehnsherr would _never_ pout either. He looked sternly at the man before him, who seemed to be…smiling? What the fuck, this is funny now? (A little, yes.) Azazel gave him an amused look, accompanied by a skeevy smirk. "Just wanted to make sure your door was working properly." He told the taller man, shrugging carelessly.

"Make sure my door was… what the HELL Azazel!?" Erik was on the verge of a murderous rampage, his agent should probably run. "What the hell does that even mean?" he demanded to know, the vein in his neck throbbing now- -Jesus that can't be good.

Another shrug. "Don't really know," Azazel told him (least he was honest, fuck), "Truth is, I just thought it would be amusing to come mess with you. I find myself rather bored with this waiting-for-Charles-to-call game." He leaned against the doorframe, looking at his nails. He did have a point though; sitting around waiting for one's phone to ring was quite tedious, not to mention pointless, possibly borderline ridiculous even. Erik clearly had ego issues he needed to work out with himself.

Or see a shrink.

The door slammed in Azazel's face. "You're fired!" came an angry, and muffled, voice from the other side of the door. Azazel sighed dramatically, _When will Erik learn? Him and his empty threats_. "Of course I am, and good luck getting someone else to babysit a cellphone for you." The door flew back open, (poor door, it really didn't deserve this type of treatment). "Wait, where _is _my phone? You have it on you, don't you?" Erik had that frantic look in his eye again- -one might even call it: Twitchy eye.

And Azazel, who is normally quite contempt with Erik's frightening behavior, even found himself taking a step back. "It's…downstairs?" he replied, eyes widening at Erik's enraged look.

Breathing becoming rapid, Erik grit out between his teeth: "You left it _downstairs_? What if he _calls_?" He pushed Azazel out if the way as he shouldered past the incompetent man, _murderous_ look gleaming in his eyes. His agent held up his hands, "Christ, calm down there Lehnsherr- -that vein in your neck looks ready to pop. I think you're getting a bit carried away with this, don't you? If he did call and we missed it, you can just call him back later, right?" He cocked an eyebrow at the crazed maniac, "Just breathe." _Nice, calm breaths._

_Breathe, right- -that's the key_. Erik sucked in a deep, relaxing breath, and then exhaled through his nose. He was not going to kill Azazel- - no- - he was going to_ murder_ _him slowly_. The man had direct orders from Erik to stay by his phone at all times in case Charles had called- - and now, well now- - he must die for directly disobeying orders. Slowly.

However, before Erik could act properly on his murderous tendencies, he heard a faint ringing sound coming from his living room. His heart stopped. And Azazel must have heard it too because he cocked his head to the side (eyebrows raised) and said: "Hmm, that might be him now, shall I-"

But he didn't even have a chance to finish- - Erik bolted past him in a blur- - to hell with dignity, he needed to get to his phone, stat! Erik stumbled/fell down the stairs, landing on the ground where he then proceeded to roll/crawl over to the coffee table where his phone was. And it was really quite hilarious (sad). Azazel had never wished more that he had got all that on tape. It would have been YouTube material for sure. _'Erik Lehnsherr make ass of self over answering cellphone._'

But alas, Erik was not yet done with his jackassery!

He next fought with his phone to get it open, struggling, and losing, (_why does he own a flip phone?_). And he may have flipped it open with more force than he meant to because the damn thing flew out of his hand and soared across the room, smashing into a chair (thankfully it was just a chair- - anything harder and it may have shattered into pieces with that much force behind it. Azazel could see Erik now- - screaming at broken shards of phone and glass, demanding them to still work damnit- - it would be both sad and hilarious).

Erik then scampered (_crawled_- -Jesus Christ- -could this GET any sadder?) over to said phone (and HOW it was still ringing was anyone's guess- -_why wasn't this set on 'auto-answer' damnit?_) cursing in German and French and possibly even two other languages- - it was hard to tell- - he could've just been whimpering pathetically.

And Jesus fuck, like a kerosene truck driving full speed into a bomb factory, Azazel just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the event that unfolded before his eyes so hilariously. He was unsure whether he should feel sorry for his boss, or point and laugh until he couldn't breathe, fuck. So instead, he just decided to save the memory in his brain and file it away under:_The cellphone incident,_ for future references.

Erik finally- -_finally _(and dramatically) got to his phone and jabbed the little green answer button, and then brought it to his ear- - and if there would've been an audience (besides his jackass of an agent), he would've got a standing ovation for that performance- -possibly a ten minute long one too. Christ.

"_Charles?_" He asked (some might say: demanded, but whatever), clearly out of breath and slightly sweaty.

A familiar (British) voice came from the other end, "Erik? I- -it's done."

XXX

Now, Erik doesn't remember the drive over to Charles', but he does remember kicking the man's door open (Spartan style), and the terrified look on Charles' face. He also has vivid memory of Charles dropping the bottle of wine he had in his hand, and then it was all a flash of kissing and moaning and grabbing and hands everywhere and Charles muttering something about getting the wine off the floor or it will stain, and Erik might have said fuck it, he'd buy him new carpet, or a new apartment, or just bloody move in with him and _burn_ this apartment down. After all, it had 'Steve' memories in it, Erik shuddered at the thought.

Charles broke away with a gasping breath, "Wait, what?" he looked into Erik's hungry eyes, "Did you just ask me to move in with you?" His own eyes becoming wider with curiosity. But Erik just pulled him back into a fierce kiss, and then broke away roughly. "No. I _told _you to move in with me." He tilted Charles' face up with his hand, kissing him again. Charles sighed into the embrace. "Oh Erik. You really mean that?" he asked when they broke away, looking so fucking sweet and sad at the same time, and so very Charles-like. It tugged at Erik's heartstrings. "Of course I mean it, why wouldn't I? I love you Charles. I never want to lose you again." _Losing Charles again was never an option_. Erik looked so deep into his eyes it scared the brunet.

His bottom lip began to quiver, and Erik reached out with his finger to stop it. "Please Charles, don't cry, I really don't think I could handle it right now. I've done things tonight that may take therapy to repress, and seeing you cry will only make matters worse." Charles didn't need to know about the Cellphone Incident however.

"I'm sorry," he smaller man choked out, "I'm just so happy." He looked up at Erik, who wiped a tear from his lover's eye. "I've never been happier in my entire life than at this moment; just say you'll move in with me." He looked down at Charles with nothing but love and hope in his eyes. Charles bit on his bottom lip (to keep it from trembling again), "Of course I will Erik. I would love nothing more than that." He pressed up on his toes and kissed Erik sweetly.

Everything was perfect.

And then Erik said: "Good. Now start packing. Let's get you out of here as soon as possible," after the kiss broke. He pulled Charles into a hug, looking around his apartment critically, _Ick, Steve memories_. He glared at the couch- - Steve had sat there, there for it must be burnt- - and don't even get him started on the _bed_, there wasn't a punishment horrifying enough to bring _that _to justice.

Pulling away, Charles looked up at Erik like he was a crazy man (well, he kind of was.) "Erik, are you trying to get me out if here because there are 'Steve memories' in here?" And of course, Erik didn't even flinch when he replied: "Yeah, why?" Charles sighed and pushed him away, "My God, you truly are mad." He walked over to the couch and sat down, shaking his head frustratingly. _Only Erik_.

The taller man winced. He really didn't want Charles on that couch.

"Erik love, you're going to have to accept that I moved on after we split-up, and that I had someone else in my life. You can't just move me away and expect the memories to go away as well." Charles told him, looking over at Erik.

Erik _really_ wished he wasn't on that couch.

"_Erik_," Charles said snappishly, "are you going to bloody say something or are you just going to stare at me all night?" _Or was he eyeing the couch hatefully? What the hell_? Erik finally shook his daze (and the murderous thoughts about the couch. _Can one really kill a couch?_) and looked to Charles softy. He walked over and reluctantly (and painfully) sat on said stupid couch- - right where Steve had sat just the other day- - and placed a hand on Charles' thigh, meeting their eyes together. "I know Charles- - I know that you- -you- -_moved on_," he forced out, "But you're _mine_ again, and I can't help but have feelings of jealousy and anger every time I think about you and Steve together. God, just seeing you with him Charles…" Erik's other hand balled up into a fist on his leg, "I- -I don't even want to _think_ about it. It drives me mad- -_insane _with rage." He couldn't look Charles in the eyes any longer. It was too painful.

"Oh Erik," the brunet said softly, tipping Erik's face back to his with his hand, "It was only ever you- - I only ever _l__oved_ you- - no one else could've ever replaced you baby. Even when I did have someone else in my bed-" Erik pulled away from him at those words. "Don't say that, I don't want to think of _him_ in your bed," he told Charles, poison in his voice.

Swallowing, Charles tried to bring Erik's face back to look at him but Erik just pulled away again and looked down. Charles slowly set his hand down on the couch, defeated. He didn't realize just how much it had torn Erik apart seeing him with another man. Charles felt so utterly terrible- - he never meant to hurt Erik- - hell, he never even thought he would ever SEE Erik again, let alone be back in his arms again. "Erik," he said, "if this is going to be too hard for you-" Erik whipped his gaze back over to the younger man, anger in his eyes, "_No!_ Don't even say THAT. I'm _not_ losing you again!" He wasn't really sure why it had come out so angrily- - he wasn't trying to yell at Charles, he was just mad at the situation. _How could Charles even suggest that?_

And Charles understood this; he nodded his head to the other man. "I don't want to lose you either Erik, but it's just very clear that you're still pained by what happened." He started to reach out for Erik again, but then recoiled his hand; not wanting to be rejected again. But Erik suddenly grabbed his hand and placed it on his cheek, "It's okay Charles, you can touch me," he placed a kiss to the brunet's thumb, "I'm sorry- -I shouldn't have acted that way- - you can _always_ touch me." He rubbed his face onto Charles' soft embrace, showing him just this as his eyes closed.

"What can I do Erik, to help you through this?" Charles asked as he rubbed his thumb across Erik's cheek, looking at him sadly. So bad did he wish he could just make the pain go away. He never meant to hurt the man- - it pained him as well to see him like this. Erik opened his eyes. "Did you sleep with him?"

Charles' hand froze. He blinked a few times before swallowing. "Wh- -_what_?" Erik took in a sharp breath, and brought his eyes up to the man next to him. "I want to know if you-" he looked away, as if disgusted by the very thought, "-had _sex_ with him." Lowering his hand from Erik's face, Charles looked at him with disbelief. "And how is that any of your business?" Erik snorted a humorless laugh, "I take it that's a 'yes' then." Just thinking about it made him want to throw-up. Good thing he was on the couch he hated so much- - it just might be mildly satisfying to vomit on.

Now Charles snorted, "I never said yes- -and if I did, would it really make a difference? Would you really get up right now and leave?" He looked to Erik, searching his face for an answer.

Shaking his head softly, Erik replied: "No, it wouldn't make a difference- -you're right- - I would still love you," he looked down again, "it would just hurt." _Like hell._ He brought his eyes back to Charles, who took a few moments of looking at him before he opened his mouth again. "Erik, it took me _three weeks _before I finally slept with you, and I REALLY wanted to- - _badly_. (Erik couldn't help but smirk at this.) What makes you think I just jumped into bed with Steve right away?" He cocked his head slightly to the side and arched an eyebrow.

And if Erik let out a sigh of relief, big deal. "So that's a no then?" Charles sighed himself before chuckling. "Yes Erik, that's a _no_." (Hey, Erik never asked about blowjobs or handjobs- -and Charles hoped he never would.) He gave the taller man a small reassuring smile. "Although, I still think that would've hardly been any of your bus-" Erik slammed his lips into Charles', stopping whatever snippet he was attempting to get out. So instead, Charles just moaned into the kiss Erik was giving him, and when Erik pulled away, he pressed their foreheads together. "I know, you're right, and I'm sorry," he breathed, "I just feel so much better knowing. Thank you. Thank you so much for not sleeping with him." He kissed Charles again.

"You're… welcome?" Charles said around a mouthful of Erik lips. He still wasn't quite sure what to think of Erik Lehnsherr, but he was moving in with him, so he couldn't possibly be that bad, right?

Right?

TBC


	10. Welcome Home Love

Charles was moving in with Erik Lehnsherr, he couldn't believe his luck, everything seemed so surreal. He'd met the man of his dreams, fell in love, lost him, and then got him back; making their love even deeper and stronger. Charles had quit his meaningless job that he really did hate—although he couldn't hate it too much considering it's what brought him and Erik together—but he was glad to be done with it. Everything was going just perfect for once in Charles' life.

And then came moving day with Erik Lehnsherr.

2:00pm—Moving day.

Charles watched as the two movers Erik had hired, removed Charles' couch from him apartment and hauled it right into the oversized dumpster that Erik also deemed necessary.

"Um Erik, why did the movers just chuck my couch into the dumpster instead of loading it into the truck?" Charles asked from his window.

Little did Charles know, Erik's original fate for the couch was to have it flowed to the nearest volcano and deposited there, but after a failed phone call to the helicopter company (apparently no amount of Erik's money would convince anyone to airlift a couch to Hawaii just to be dumped into a volcano so it could meet its fiery demise) Erik had to just settle on renting a econo-sized dumpster. But that didn't mean he didn't have plans to return after dark and finish the job off himself with a blowtorch and some kerosene.

Erik really fucking hated that couch.

Charles turned away from the window to meet Erik's gaze. "Erik? My couch?"

It took Erik a considerable amount of effort not to smile. "I already have a couch, four actually, we don't need another one." He said with as much reserve as he could.

Charles frowned. "But I liked that couch, and it's relatively new. I only bought it a year ago." Erik came to where Charles was standing at the window, putting his arm around his shoulder and joining Charles' gaze out the window. "It's gone now Charles, there's nothing we can do about it now. It's best to just forget about it." Charles looked oddly at Erik, eyebrows in question—he'd begun to wonder if Erik was a bit on the looney side.

2:42pm—Moving day.

Next, Charles found Erik going through his closet, ripping shirts off hangers carelessly; tossing them behind his back into a pile on the floor—he didn't even turn his head once to look at the collection that was forming— once they were off the hanger they were out of his life.

"What are you doing now?" Charles asked with his hands up in question—and maybe a little more sternly than he normally would—he watched his cardigans and sweater vests as they were flown onto the floor.

"What clothes did you wear while you were dating Steve?" Erik gestured to the growing pile behind him. "Make two piles— one containing the items you didn't wear around him; that will be the safe pile, and the other will be bagged and dumped."

Charles stared at him for a brief second, then ran his hands through his hair in frustration—he absolutely had to get out of there—maybe a coffee run, yeah he was going to go for some coffee—maybe by the time he got back Erik would be not so physco.

"Would you prefer if I just bought you all new clothes? I can do that if it would be easier." Erik yelled after Charles as he stalked out of the room quickly, muttering to himself—something about crazy German boyfriend and Nut House.

3:17pm-Moving day.

Soon enough, Charles returned with two coffees—one containing three sugars and milk, and the other with Irish whisky and a dollop of whipped cream—just in time to witness Erik in the dumpster, jumping up and down viciously on a bag of... well maybe it was best if he didn't know what.

Charles set Erik's coffee on the kitchen counter and went over to sit on his—_oh, that's right, he no longer had a couch_. He drained his coffee in one go and then decided he needed another one. Now.

Back to the café it was.

3:47pm—Moving day.

Next, Charles came home to find _Caution Crime Scene_ tape crossed over his bedroom door.

3:54pm—Moving day.

"Come on Charles, it was just a joke, let me in." Erik said through the silted door, the chain keeping him from entering.

"You are utterly insane Erik Lehnsherr!" Charles sat with his back to the partly open door, arms wrapped around bent legs. "Where did you even get that tape from?"

"The Props department from the studio- -come on just let me in. I promise; no more gags." Erik tapped his finger lightly on the door, trying to wedge his foot in.

This was about the time Charles had started to realize that maybe instead of him moving into Erik's place, he should be helping Erik move into a Mental Health Facility.

6:35pm-Moving day.

Charles returned from the bar—feeling a considerable amount better than previously— only to find Erik in his kitchen, breaking all his dishes—one plate right after another, and then throwing them into the trash bin.

Charles... didn't care, he was drunk—he just didn't care anymore. Erik looked over to him when he noticed his presence. "I'm doing you a favor Charles, really—these dishes are just awful."

10:17pm—Moving day

Charles emerged from his bedroom—after ripping the tape down—feeling much better after his nap. Erik had boxed what little was left of Charles' kitchen items—the things that he had spared—and had moved on to his living room, putting the hundreds of books Charles had safely into larger boxes. And for the most part, it looked like Erik had spared all of his books—if not, that may have been grounds for break-up. Charles sat down on the floor, and then looked over to Erik, who was still removing books from the bookcase.

"Would you like a list of restaurants that Steve and I went to while we were dating? So you can have them closed down?" Charles asked sarcastically—plain look settling over his face. Erik thought about this for a moment. He _could_ indeed have the restaurants in question closed down- -he was a man with power after all. Power and money—lots and lots of money.

"I'd like to see a list by tomorrow morning."

11:50pm—Moving day now to be resumed tomorrow.

Charles rutted against Erik's leg as he kissed him with abandon, pressing him up against the wall. "Erik Lehnsherr, you are the most infuriating man I've ever met in my life," he said between kisses, "and yet you still seem to turn me on to the point of no return," he growled into his ear—giving it a lick and then a tug with his teeth. Erik let out a soft moan— tilting his head to the side for Charles to gain better access—he held onto Charles' hips and helped him grind onto his leg. "Charles, take off your pants, I want you in my mouth." Erik said huskily.

Quickly, Charles retreated from Erik's neck—undoing his belt buckle as Erik slid to his knees—he barely even registered his next thought as Erik took his erection into his mouth. He let out a hoarse moan as Erik sucked on him slowly and evenly— taking his time to slide his mouth up and down the entire length of Charles' shaft, making sure he was good and wet. And Charles let him—not at all feeling bad for enjoying it as much as he did— after all; Erik wasn't particularly on his best behavior this day.

Bucking his hips, Charles drove his cock even further into Erik's mouth— making him gag a little and trying to get him to open his throat up more. Erik sucked harder—speeding up as he grabbed Charles' hips—helping him fuck into his mouth. Charles had to keep one hand against the wall to steady himself, and the other tangled in Erik's hair—guiding his head as it bobbed back and forth. Erik moaned around Charles' cock—sending vibrations of pleasure ringing through it.

"Oh _god_," escaped Charles as he came into Erik's mouth—hand tightening around Erik's hair as he did. Erik swallowed everything Charles had to offer and then gave his cock one last heavy lick—just for good measures. Charles went weak in the knees, needing to lean against the wall with more pressure. Erik let Charles rest a hand on his shoulder for support as he smiling up at him, happy with his results. Charles took in a couple of shaky breaths, trying to restore the oxygen back to his brain. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Erik's lips before doing his pants back up.

Standing, Erik watched as Charles retreated down the hallway—probably to his bedroom. His brows furrowed. "What about me?" he yelled down the hallway toward Charles—confused expression forming over his face.

The door just closed.

12:16am

Erik jerked off in the bathroom—cursing Charles' name.

12:21am

Erik laid down in bed next to Charles—making his presence known by letting out a huff. "You're a jerk." He threw an arm around Charles' waist as he snuggled up against the man's back. Charles just rolled more into him—moving his arm so Erik could get his around him tighter.

"Now you know how I felt this whole day." And he absolutely did not have a smile on his face when he said it.

6:43am—Moving day; take two

Come morning, Charles found Erik in the kitchen, super-gluing broken dish pieces back together. "What are you doing love?" he asked as he stepped around a pile of poorly glued dished to get on the other side of his boyfriend. Erik set the glue and current plate in hand down—he looked at Charles sadly. "I guess I was being a bit rash yesterday." Charles just smiled—pushing a stray strand of hair out of Erik's eye. "Why _did_ you feel the need to murder my dishes, love?" Erik gave him a small shrug. "I didn't like the idea that we might eat off the same plates that you and Steve did," he said sheepishly. Charles sighed. "Erik, you know I love you." He put his arm around the taller man—pulling him to his side. "Because no one else would put up with your crazy, erratic behavior." He smiled at the man and Erik brought Charles' head closer—fitting their lips together for a soft kiss.

9:23am—Moving day; take two

Erik had taped up the last box of Charles' stuff—putting it by the door for the movers to place in the truck. Charles looked around his empty apartment, not saying anything until his eyes met Erik's.

"I think I'm gonna miss this place."

Erik quirked a smile at him. "I'm not."

Charles frowned.

10:09am—Moving day; take two

"Erik! You don't have to do this, really!" Charles latched his arms around Erik's shoulders tighter. "You're going to drop me!"

"Nonsense, I got you." Erik held onto Charles—walking him towards his front door—movers in the back ground snickering. "I want to do this." Erik shifted Charles' body so he could dig around in his pocket for his keys.

"We're not married, we're just moving in together." Charles flailed around a little as Erik shifted him—clinging on to him tighter. Erik finally got out his keys. "Charles, I _want_ to carry you over the threshold, just let me do this." He fit the key into the hole, turned it and then kicked the door—opening it with a loud thud as it hit the wall.

One of the movers leaned over to the other. "Told you the brunet was the girl," he whispered with a snicker. Jerk.

Erik deposited Charles onto the living room couch—kissing him as he straddled his lap.

"Welcome home love."

11:03am—Moving day; take two

Charles sucked Erik off in the bathroom as the movers unloaded the truck.

"God Charles, you're so fucking good with your mouth." Erik moaned—both hands on Charles' head, guiding his mouth over his cock. Charles pulled away. "Shh! Erik, the movers will hear you," he whispered harshly, looking up at the man with embarrassment.

"Let them," he said, guiding Charles' head back to his cock. He smiled wickedly as Charles took him back in.

1:08pm—Moving day complete

Coming into the bedroom, Erik watched as Charles put various cardigans on hangers. "You want some help?" He leaned against the door frame—folding his arms across his chest.

Looking over his shoulder, Charles smiled at him. "I'm almost done dear, but thank you."

Erik made his way into the room—wrapping his arms around Charles' waist when he got to the smaller man. He pulled Charles' back to his chest and leaned his head down—pressing his cheek to Charles'. "I know I've already said it before, but welcome home." Erik gave his cheek a quick kiss.

Turning to face the older man, Charles just replied: "I love you too."

TBC


	11. I Want To Ask You Somthing

Seven months after moving in with Erik—or as it was once called—The Moving Day Disaster from Hell—Charles had settle in nicely for the most part—only having a couple of tiffs here and there. _ "No Erik it is not alright for you to go through my phone, I don't care who you think sent me a message that late, and no it was not Steve!"_ And _"Yes Erik, it is okay to eat at this restaurant even though Steve and I ate there; I promise you it won't ruin the experience."_ As well as _"I swear to God Erik, if you don't start knocking before you come in the bathroom I will install a chain and lock on the bloody door!"_

Boundaries, Erik's leaning about boundaries.

"Erik would you stop fidgeting, you look fine already—_stop_! Just leave your tie alone, you look fine." Charles removed Erik's hands from his tie—putting them to his side.

"I hate these things; do I really have to go?" Erik grumbled unhappily—looking at his stupid tux in the stupid mirror. Charles came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Erik's waist—placing his chin on Erik's shoulder, and looked at him through the mirror. "Of course you have to go. It's the Golden Globes! You're up for Best Actor." He smiled.

Erik frowned. "_Whoopie_, like I really need another Golden Globe— Azazel will just try and sell it on E-Bay again—or worse, take it to another bar and use it to pick up chicks," he said dryly. Charles furrowed his brows—coming around on the other side of Erik. "He does that? The bar one that is?"

Letting out a snort, Erik replied: "Yeah. But the more unbelievable part was the fact that it worked—apparently very drunk girls will believe anything as long as you're waving an award around." He tugged at his tie again. Charles reached up to stop him. "It had your name on it, did it not?"

Erik stopped fighting the losing battle against his tie. "He told them it was a typo," he said dryly and Charles chuckled. "He sure knows how to take of advantage of knowing you in order to get laid—I may have to get some pointers from him," he teased. Erik grabbed Charles and brought his close. "You'd better not!" he growled. "I'd kill anyone who'd even looked at you." He then brought their lips together for a possessive kiss.

"This year I thought I'd just put a sticker with my name on it over yours." Azazel said, killing the moment quickly. He shrugged. "I'm willing to bet it would do the trick just as well."

Charles pulled away, cheeks flushed, and smiled at Azazel. "It's not nice to take advantage of drunk girls Azazel."

"I call it work-perks. You've been around this man for awhile now, it's the least he could do for me for having to put up with his crazy antics." Azazel lifted one eyebrow to Erik.

"You know you don't have to _steal_ my Golden Globes—you could just ask; I'd give them to you anyways." Erik retorted—ignoring Azazel's snide remark about working for him. "Besides, don't you still have the one from last year?" Azazel waved a dismissive hand. "It's outdated—girls may not seem to notice the name is incorrect—but if the year is wrong, they care. I have to stay… in season."

Charles shook his head—quite confused with the whole concept as is. "So they are drunk enough to let the whole wrong name thing slip, but God-for-bid the Award is from last year?" He looked to Azazel with disbelief. "Maybe you should seriously reconsider the women you pick up."

Azazel smirked. "There'd be no fun in that, now would there?"

"You'll never find the right one in bars anyway, especially not when all they seem to be interested in is a silly Award." Charles said, adjusting his own tie as Azazel shot him a quizzically look. "Whoever said I was looking for the _right one_?"

"You don't want to be happy?" Charles looked a bit taken back. "Just look at Erik and I- -I never thought I'd want to settle down, but now that I have, I couldn't be happier." He gave Erik goo-goo eyes.

Feeling a bit queasy, Azazel looked at the two— _they may be on the verge of making out_—time to exit. "Ah, speaking of that, I was just leaving," he said as he turned on his heels and started out of the room. "I'll be waiting downstairs. The car leaves in ten minutes, with or without you."

Erik tore his gaze from Charles' eyes—looking over the smaller man's shoulder. "It's _my_ car, how can it leave without me?" He yelled to Azazel—but the man was already out of sight. Charles gave a half smirk. "I think we should make sure we're downstairs on time, you don't want Azazel excepting your award for you, do you?"

Fear ran through Erik—Oh God, Azazel would do that too—what a speculation he would make. Not that Erik had any room to talk when it came to making acceptance speeches—he may have been nick-named 'The Award Nazi' or more commonly 'The One who yells at Award Shows'—but this year was going be different—he was actually going to _thank_ people (and not himself), in fact, he had something special in mind. If he wins of course.

"Of course you'll win Love, you're a fantastic actor." Charles had said as if he could read Erik's mind. Erik relaxed the tension in his shoulders and smiled down at Charles. "You're too kind. And if I do win for my acting, it's only because you inspired me to be a better person." Charles bit his lip—his eyes got misty, "Oh Erik…"

"Eight minutes you two!" Azazel yelled, undoubtedly from the living room—he was a good moment ruiner he was.

Charles wiped his eye with his thumb. "Shall we head down?" he asked and smiled at Erik. A smirking grin appeared over Erik's face. "We have eight minutes, let's use them." He ducked his head and fit their lips together. Charles moaned into the kiss before he broke away. "Now_that_ will make us late." He gave Erik a knowing look but the taller man just laughed. "Not even a good luck blowjob?"

Not replying, Charles just dragged Erik out of the room by his tie—looking back at him with a mussing expression.

XXX

"Oh Erik!" Charles kissed him. "I can't believe you!" Another kiss. "You are so unbelievable sweet!" More kisses.

Azazel huffed—walking in the door behind the PDA that was happening before him. "Erik's never thanked _me_ during an acceptance speech before—yelled at me, yes—threatened to fire me, of course—but he's never 'thanked' me," he muttered. And he may have been a little on the bitter side. He closed Erik's door behind them all.

Carefully, Erik carried a kissing Charles over to the couch; award clutched tightly in Charles' hand, and set him down gently. "How much champagne did you have?" He asked the brunet. Charles grinned up stupidly at him. "That has nothing to do with why I'm so happy." He pulled on Erik's collar—bringing him into a messy, and nauseating (Azazel's words) kiss.

Erik may have literally shocked the world—_okay maybe just the audience at the Golden Globes_—by giving the sweetest, most uncharacteristic acceptance speech ever—there wasn't even any yelling this time…

_"But the true thanks I want to give tonight goes to the most important person in my life. Without this person I wouldn't be the man I am here today; I want to thank my boyfriend, my lover; Charles— without him, life would not be worth living."_

Crickets could be heard chipping—everyone was afraid to move—clearly this was a sick joke.

But Erik wasn't done— Oh no—he had more planned. And no one was going to stop him either. They even tried to play the _wrap-it-up_ music, but he just glared the production crew into submission. Needless to say, everyone was still terrified of Erik Lehnsherr.

_ "Charles, where are you? I want to ask you something…"_

Azazel briefly wondered if it would be considered 'unclassy' to hide under a table—was Erik really going to do this?

Charles stared at up at Erik on stage, curious and wide eyed, and a bit timid at the sudden attention Erik had drawn to him.

But Erik just plowed on, completely ignoring the uncomfortable look from the poor sap who had the misfortune of presenting him with the award this year.

_"Charles, I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life without you…"_

Somewhere in the audience, Emma Frost rolled her eyes.

Charles was blinking back tears now—eyes still impossibly wide as a smile spread over his face. Azazel kicked his feet up on the table and took his phone out to play a game on it—he wondered if they'd cut to commercial yet.

_"Marry me Charles Xavier, and make the happiest man alive."_

"Your mom made me the happiest man alive last night!" 'Someone' with blond hair shouted from the audience, before making his hasty retreat for the exit.

But Erik didn't even care- -he only had eyes for Charles….

Charles pulled Erik all the way down onto the couch with him—kissing him over and over—never wanting to let go. This was Azazel's cue to leave, but not before swiping the award of course. He somehow managed to grab it from Charles' hand—arms still wrapped around Erik's neck—without disrupting the two love-birds on the couch. He cringed a little.

Eventually, Charles had to break for air. He looked up into Erik's eyes. "You really meant it?" He asked, feeling the moister building in his eyes again. Erik looked softly at him. "With all my heart Charles. There's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with."

"Married," Charles said dreamily. "I'm going to be married to Erik Lehnsherr. I still can't believe it." And he would never get tired of saying those words—he still couldn't believe Erik proposed to him—and on live TV too! Charles really was the luckiest person alive, as far as _he_ was concerned anyway.

Erik however, still believes it's _him_, who is the lucky one.

The End.


End file.
